<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>Ineffable by wisewolf</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862826">Ineffable</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisewolf/pseuds/wisewolf'>wisewolf</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Mean Girls - Richmond/Benjamin/Fey</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Alternate Universe - Warehouse 13, Canon is but a suggestion, Eventual Romance, F/F, Partners to Lovers, Slow Burn, and currently is with the secret service, cady will be introduced later, idk how much later but like... later, janis is a PI, regina is an ex-marine, this is entirely self-indulgent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 12:13:36</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>43,908</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23862826</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/wisewolf/pseuds/wisewolf</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Regina George has been with the United States Secret Service for upwards of four years, and she was a Marine for even longer (even if she says once a Marine, always a Marine), so she's seen some things. However, after being reassigned to the mysterious Warehouse 13, her eyes have been opened to the world of strange, weird, and wonderful.</p><p>Paired up with Detective Janis Sarkisian, it's up to the two of them and their small team of history buffs to keep people safe from the malevolent artifacts that always have a downside.</p><p>There's action, there's romance, there's angst; welcome to a world of endless wonder.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Cady Heron/Aaron Samuels (background), Karen Smith/Gretchen Wieners (background), Regina George/Janis Sarkisian</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>98</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>60</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Stockings and Sticky Fingers</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>well well well look what the cat dragged into the rejanis fandom. i'm here, i'm queer, and of course i'm bringing the joys of my old faithful Warehouse 13 to y'all. this first chapter is a bit slow, but everything will ramp up pretty quickly once we get into the meat of the story, so stay tuned and enjoy!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The sun isn’t even up when her eyes open, blankly staring at her ceiling fan as it spins round and round. She watches it for a few moments, not daring to look at her phone just in case she sees that it’s actually 2AM and she doesn’t need to be awake yet. If it’s like all of her other mornings from the past four years, her alarm should be going off soon, and she’s not about to ruin this sensation of wakefulness by going back to sleep.</p>
<p>A minute passes…</p>
<p>Two.</p>
<p>She’s just about to give up and let her eyes slip shut when the blaring siren she has set as an alarm begins to sound from her bedside table, her phone vibrating so violently she’s sure if she doesn’t turn off the alarm it’ll fall to the floor. It’s muscle memory, at this point, to reach across and poke around at her screen to make the wailing stop. It’s muscle memory that pushes her out of the comfort of her bed and into her workout gear.</p>
<p>For as long as she can remember, Regina George has woken up at 5 o’clock sharp, ready to face the day. It began at her father’s insistence-- you can take the man out of the military, but you can’t take the military out of the man-- and it became a routine that she’s not willing to break. However, things are different now compared to how they were in middle school, high school. These days she spends her early mornings exercising before work, whereas as a teen she’d spend the extra time before school painstakingly doing her makeup.</p>
<p>
  <i>37, 38, 39, 40...</i>
</p>
<p>Push ups stopped being hard for her after years of her father running her ragged through their spacious backyard. Later she would learn that he was putting her through what was essentially boot camp, all before she could even comprehend the idea of joining the military.</p>
<p>She’d held the record for number of push ups and pull ups done by any person at her high school, back during a time when people cared about fitness testing, as though that was a judgeable metric of someone’s worth.</p>
<p>People cared about petty things during high school, herself included.</p>
<p>Her form is perfect, as everything in her life should be. The perfectionist tendencies that haunted her throughout high school didn’t quite worsen when she went to college, just warped. She didn’t need flawless eyeliner and killer outfits when she had the thinly veiled praise of her CO keeping her going, even if she never quite stopped dressing herself up for people. It made her feel confident, but it wasn’t something she needed anymore.</p>
<p>
  <i>71, 72, 73, 74...</i>
</p>
<p>A grunt of pain slips past her parted lips, her spine twinging with a ghost from her past. She pauses in her workout, slowly lowering to the floor before rolling over onto her back. She raises her arms over her head and arches, stretching as tall as she can. Almost five years, and she’s still dealing with…</p>
<p>“Fuck it,” she mumbles, sitting up slowly, carefully. She doesn’t want to irritate anything that’s already angry at her, so she gets off of the floor without moving her back too much and decides to call her workout done. Sweat drips down her body and soaks into the fabric of her workout gear as she chugs water, refills her bottle, and chugs some more.</p>
<p>Forty-five minutes and a shower later, Regina George is dressed to impress. Her suit is pristine, her shoes expensive and stylish, yet comfortable. She grabs her badge and sidearm from the top drawer of her nightstand and clips them both on, finishing off the ensemble with her sunglasses.</p>
<p>Shift change isn’t the most glamorous-- can anything about working as security for a president you don’t agree with be considered glamorous, even-- but that doesn’t mean she can’t look good while she does it.</p>
<p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Special Agent Oman looks like he’s seen better days when Regina approaches his post to relieve him. To an outsider, sure, he looks stoic and scary and totally on the ball, but she a) is trained in reading people, and is very good at what she does and b) is one of his real friends. There’s a slight slump to his shoulders, as well as deep bags under his eyes that have been poorly hidden with concealer.<p>Whenever she’d pointed them out in the past, he would joke and say they were Gucci.</p>
<p>“You look like shit,” she says candidly, though quiet. They’re in an emptier hallway, outside of some offices. No one who works in the offices has arrived yet, seeing as it’s ten till 8AM, but there’s a slight buzz of conversation as other agents are relieved of their duties.</p>
<p>He raises two fingers to his earpiece, hardly acknowledging her jab. “This is Special Agent Oman, do you copy?”</p>
<p>Regina crosses her arms and waits (im)patiently. One of the few virtues that her father and the military could never really instill in her.</p>
<p>“Yessir, George just arrived.”</p>
<p>“If that’s Carr tell him to go fuck himself,” Regina whispers, earning a snort from her otherwise stone-faced friend. She grins when his mouth twitches at the edges, signalling a smile that he’s trying to smother.</p>
<p>“Over and out,” Shane finishes, removing his earpiece. He fixes her with a glare that’s made less threatening by how tired he looks. “And for your information, that was Carr. He just switched in, so have fun listening to his bullshit for the next ten hours, Reggie.”</p>
<p>She stifles a groan in her throat and settles for a disappointed sigh. Having Carr as the supervising agent for this shift is going to be hellish, she can already tell, but she’s a professional.</p>
<p>Can’t really say the same about him, but that could be applied to everyone in this fucking administration.</p>
<p>“I’m headed home to catch some shuteye,” Shane says, clapping her on the shoulder with the half-smile that some of the lady interns (and even a few of the men) like to giggle about when they think no one’s around to hear them gossip. “Good luck.”</p>
<p>“I’ll need it,” she replies, tucking her shades away and assuming the position he leaves behind, trudging off to deposit his earpiece before most assuredly heading home to get some sleep.</p>
<p>She almost envies the fact that he has a life to return to outside of work, whereas she has… literally nothing.</p>
<p>She exhales noisily through her nose and works to keep her back straight and her feet planted firmly. Work is not the time to be lamenting her lonely lifestyle, and really, it should be reminding her just why she’s so alone. She doesn’t want to make attachments to people and then go off and get killed in the line of duty, leaving people behind. It would be selfish.</p>
<p>Besides, with how much she works it’s not like she’d be able to sustain any friendships, let alone a romantic relationship.</p>
<p>It’s better if she’s just by herself.</p>
<p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>The work day is blissfully uneventful, something she relishes. Maybe other people would imagine her job to be constantly engaging and exciting, and they wouldn’t understand the privilege of a quiet day, but after being with the USSS for upwards of four years, she’s grown to love the days where nothing is in danger of blowing up.<p>Well, except perhaps the president’s temper, but she’s not in charge of that.</p>
<p>Her back aches from standing in the same position for hours, but she pushes that to the side as she departs the White House and starts making her way through the city on foot, in search of a bar. What she needs is a stiff drink to loosen up and relax for a single night of her life. Maybe she’ll fool around and take someone home.</p>
<p>
  <i>(Who is she kidding. She hasn’t done that since college, why would she start now?)</i>
</p>
<p>The first bar she comes across is too high brow for what she’s looking for, so she moves on until she finds a more hole in the wall establishment a few blocks down. She ducks under the awning and shrugs out of her long raincoat before entering. She doesn’t stand out among the night crowd of DC businesspeople who are also craving a drink, and she clocks a few men who are well on their way to an awful tomorrow with how drunk they already appear.</p>
<p>“Whiskey, neat, top shelf,” she says shortly once she has the bartender’s attention. She drapes her raincoat over the back of her chair and folds her suit jacket over the bar, drumming her manicured nails against the mildly sticky surface. This absolutely isn’t her scene, but she can only stand rich bastards for so long before she starts to feel like she’s around her father again.</p>
<p>Once she’s got her drink, she almost reflexively begins to tune into the conversations going on around her. It’s her job to know what’s going on in her proximity at all times, and that tends to bleed into her life outside of work. She can hear the trio of drunk men in the corner whispering and snickering, there’s a lone man mumbling into his beer about the game on the screens, and there’s a group of girls chattering at one of the tables. It’s not too busy, given it’s a Wednesday evening.</p>
<p>She sips on her whiskey as she glances up at the game, unmoved by the scores displayed. Neither of the teams are of particular interest to her, so she goes back to looking into her whiskey and listening.</p>
<p>One of the girls from the group has just finished chastising one of her friends for getting back together with an ex who cheated (“you said it, sister,” Regina had whispered into her tumbler, a slight smirk playing at her lips) when the door to the bar opens, catching her immediate attention.</p>
<p>The woman who walks in is incredibly attractive, and Regina follows the echoes of her heel clicks as she passes her to get a seat at the bar. In her peripheral, she sees the woman cross one leg over the other, hears her order a gin and tonic. She’s wearing a killer red dress, and she almost reminds Regina of a younger version of herself with the way she seems to be commanding the attention of everyone in the bar.</p>
<p>“What’s a nice girl like you doing in a place like this,” a voice to her far right asks.</p>
<p>She angles herself so she has a better view of the woman, taking a surreptitious sip of her drink as she crosses her legs. The man who’d been watching the game-- handsome enough, probably wealthy given the expensive looking watch he was wearing-- was the one to have spoken.</p>
<p>“Me?” the woman replies questioningly, breaking into a controlled laugh. She flips her hair over her shoulder and leans towards the man, making Regina raise her eyebrow. “I don’t know. Good company?”</p>
<p>He snorts. “There’s not a lot of that around DC these days, honey.” The man takes a swig of his beer and finally, fully, turns away from the TV screen. “Bunch of brown-nosers and cutthroats.”</p>
<p>Another painfully forced laugh that no one else seems to register. Something uncertain stirs in Regina’s gut. Something about this interaction isn’t sitting well with her, so she sets her drink on the bar and makes a show of rolling her neck and stretching.</p>
<p>“You don’t seem so bad,” the woman says, and Regina watches as she reaches out to take the man’s hand, picking it up from the bar and resting it firmly on her knee. The woman inclines her chin at the man, looking at him through thick, false lashes. “What do you say we get out of here?”</p>
<p>The man seems dumbstruck, his hand frozen on the woman’s knee. He’s facing Regina, so she sees the moment his eyes seem to glaze over and darken unnaturally. His mouth opens and no sound comes out. The woman tips his chin up with her index finger and then hooks it in his collar, beginning to lead him out of the bar, and no one else seems to be noticing anything.</p>
<p>Something about this is <i>wrong.</i></p>
<p>Regina quickly pays for her unfinished drink and pulls on her jacket and raincoat again, following the two out of the bar and onto the sidewalk. The rain has thankfully let up a little, and she catches sight of the candy red dress in the crowd of dreary black suits and umbrellas. She weaves through people with practiced ease, tailing them to an inconspicuous alley. She rests her hand on her sidearm, just in case, and peeks into the darkness.</p>
<p>“Here’s how this is gonna go,” the woman says, barely audible. Regina can see her walking her fingers up the man's chest before pushing him against the wall by his throat. “You’re gonna give me everything of value you have on you right now. Jewelry, wallet, hell, your shoes if they’re expensive.”</p>
<p>“O-okay.” The man immediately starts tugging at his watch, probably worth more than the average person’s monthly pay. The woman just watches this happen, hands on her hips, unarmed as far as Regina can see.</p>
<p><i>So why is he doing this?</i> Regina thinks to herself, confused and intrigued. She’s not threatening him, as far as she’s seen, and he seems to be doing this… willingly. <i>Did she drug him? What would do this to a person?</i></p>
<p>The woman takes the watch and secures it on her own wrist, admiring it. It looks bulky on her, but she doesn’t seem to mind, switching her expectant gaze back up to him. He hands over his wallet and a gaudy class ring next, and Regina can’t shake the feeling of unease that settles deep in her gut when she takes in the expression on his face. Complete adoration shines in his eyes, as if he’s suddenly fallen hard for this woman who is <i>robbing</i> him.</p>
<p>She reaches up to pat him twice on the cheek, smiling, satisfied. “Go on, then.”</p>
<p><i>What?</i> Regina thinks to herself.</p>
<p>“Get lost,” she snaps when he doesn’t move.</p>
<p>It certainly gets his attention, and the doe-eyed, loving look drains from his face and is replaced by ire faster than Regina can even comprehend.</p>
<p>“But I love you!” the man exclaims loudly, earning a surprised look from the woman who covers his mouth with her hand. She looks around wildly to make sure no one’s heard them, not noticing Regina still keeping an eye on the situation, ready to draw her gun.</p>
<p>“You don’t love me,” she hisses at him, dragging her hand down to where she’d initially pushed him against the wall by his throat… she starts pressing on his windpipe. “You don’t love me,” she repeats in a shaky voice, but it only seems to enrage the man. The terror that reflects in her eyes tells Regina she had not planned for this.</p>
<p>The man’s eyes flash with fury as he begins to struggle, gnashing his teeth and snarling like an unhinged beast. He shoves her back against the opposite wall with incredible strength, his compliance nothing more than a passing memory now that he looks like a mad man. His chest heaves as he pants, and he looks like he’s about to swing out at the woman when Regina spins around the corner-</p>
<p>-she blinks-</p>
<p>-and the scene changes when her eyes open again. She inhales sharply at the sight that greets her when she hones back in on the alley. The man is sprawled back on the ground, eyes closed as though he’s asleep, and the woman is propped up against the wall of the alley, head lolled to the side. At the other end of the alley, Regina sees a black clad figure walking out, the glimmer of something shiny reflecting under the street lamps.</p>
<p>Everything smells like ozone.</p>
<p>Regina rushes forward, leaving behind the bodies when she checks the man’s pulse and finds his heart beating. She doesn’t bother with the woman, knowing that whoever did this is quickly getting away and she’ll lose them if she doesn’t pursue them.</p>
<p>“Hey!” she calls after them. They turn to look over their shoulder before their pace quickens, and Regina sees them tuck the shining item into their coat as they duck their head and try to disappear into the crowd. “Hey, stop!”</p>
<p>The crowd swells, almost like it knows she’s got a purpose now. She tugs her badge off of her belt and holds it in front of her as she runs as best she can through the throng of people trying to get home from work. “Secret Service, move!” she shouts, ignoring the people who swear at her for shoving them out of the way.</p>
<p>She has eyes on the figure, but then she blinks-</p>
<p>-and they’re gone.</p>
<p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>She walks back to her apartment after that, frustration and confusion fighting for dominance in her mind. Nothing that had happened once that woman entered the bar was normal, that much she knows. She was so aggressive, and sure, it’s 2020 and women can be clear about what they want, but the way the man had acted… he’d gone from lovestruck to enraged in milliseconds, after only a single conversation with this woman.<p>It unsettles Regina, to say the least.</p>
<p>Her thoughts are still swirling when she reaches the door to her apartment, tiredly trying to find her keys in her bag, when she notices something.</p>
<p>Soft music, coming from within her apartment. A record she hasn’t played on the vintage player in probably over a year.</p>
<p>Someone is in her house.</p>
<p>She draws her sidearm and tries the doorknob, confused when it proves to be locked. If they didn’t come in through the door, then how did they-? They’re several stories off of the ground, so how could a person have possibly broken into her house, and why the hell were they playing music.</p>
<p>It’s dark when she finally unlocks and opens the door. She shuts it with a quiet click behind her, allowing herself a few moments to survey her surroundings. Nothing seems disturbed, though the hall light is on. She distinctly remembers turning that off on her way out in the morning, so she raises her gun and slowly steps further into the apartment, the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end. She reaches the hall and peers towards where her bedroom is.</p>
<p>The door is closed.</p>
<p>And that’s when she hears a click behind her.</p>
<p>“Regina George.”</p>
<p>She whips around, finger poised over the trigger, heart a constant thrum in her ears as adrenaline floods her bloodstream. “Secret Service. Identify yourself!”</p>
<p>It’s a man, dark skinned with short, curly salt and pepper hair. He’s tall and broad with a cryptic smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He doesn’t look unkind, and his hands are clasped in front of him unthreateningly, but he still broke into her fucking house somehow, so she keeps her gun raised.</p>
<p>Despite the fact that she’s in a position to end his tenure on this planet, he seems wholly unbothered.</p>
<p>“I told you to identify yourself,” she demands when no response seems forthcoming, swallowing and adjusting her grip.</p>
<p>“My name is Ron Duvall, but you shall refer to me as Mr. Duvall.” He paces over to her island where there’s a tumbler of whiskey, picking it up and taking a sip. “I’m a member of a small sect of the Department of Homeland Security,” he says calmly, evidently unconcerned that his life is being threatened right now by an ex-Marine and current Secret Service agent. “You’re being reassigned, Special Agent George.”</p>
<p>“On whose authority?” Regina questions, feeling her throat tighten. “To where?” Her brow knits together in frustration, confusion, every strange occurrence of the night finally catching up to her.</p>
<p>“My authority.” He pulls a file from within his coat and holds it out to her. When she doesn’t immediately grab it, he gestures pointedly with his chin. “Everything you'll need is in here; plane ticket, coordinates, and some simple instructions. Consider it an… invitation.”</p>
<p>“An invitation to what?” she bites out.</p>
<p>His dark eyes sparkle when he says, “A world of endless wonder.”</p>
<p>Regina doesn’t lower her weapon, just holds it with one hand as she snatches the file away. She looks down at it. It’s unremarkable and orange, like a lot of her directives from the White House. She raises her eyes to ask more questions, demand more answers, but the man is... gone?</p>
<p>She stares at the spot where he once stood, and if not for the very real file held in her hand, she would’ve believed him to just be a mirage. Some whiskey induced hallucination, even if she feels stone cold sober after everything that’s happened.</p>
<p>The folder feels like a block of lead.</p>
<p>Her reassignment.</p>
<p>
  <i>“What the fuck?”</i>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Glorified Antique Collectors</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Regina arrives in Univille, South Dakota and meets two interesting characters, one of which is apparently her new boss.</p><p>She still doesn't really know what's going on.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It’s 2am.</p><p>It’s offensively bright.</p><p>Regina is a morning person until she’s being forced to depart from Reagan National Airport at, again, two in the morning. The stars that are visible twinkle mockingly overhead as she checks her bags and tries to pull together any semblance of composure so that she doesn’t look like a complete troll for her flight. It’s not like anyone would notice, given other people were trapped in their own zombie-like states as they came and went around her.</p><p>She’s early, as she had reluctantly planned to be, so she sits down in an uncomfortable airport seat and pulls Duvall’s file out of her carry-on. Over the past two days, in between packing up her life, she’d been reading and re-reading the details of her reassignment. It’s strange, really, because the papers within the files are as mysterious as the man who had broken into her house without any signs of forced entry.</p><p>Black bars cover strategic words, blocking out any information she might’ve used to figure out what the hell she was going to be doing in <i>Univille, South Dakota.</i> She’d never even <i>heard</i> of this town, and when she’d put it into Google Maps, nothing came back. When she arrives at the coordinates Duvall provided, Regina half expects to find nothing but dust, cracked earth, and dry wind.</p><p>Maybe a skeleton, if she wants to think morbidly.</p><p>She shakes the rest of the papers-- careful not to lose the car keys that try to escape-- out of the file and into her hand, poring over them for anything she might’ve missed; anything to tell her that she shouldn’t trust this, that she should show up with her gun drawn so she can shoot whoever’s responsible for this awful prank right between the eyes.</p><p>Nothing turns out, same as before, though she lingers over the postcard that had been left in the file. She frowns at it, wondering what its significance is.</p><p>The postcard itself is worn at the edges, and the picture is sepia toned. It shows a family of three in front of a beautiful house, and they’re standing next to a sign that reads “Miriam’s Bed &amp; Breakfast.” The man has an arm slung over the shoulder of the woman while she holds a toddler in her arms, a little girl by the looks, with dark curls and a radiant smile. It’s incredibly sweet, but it gives her even less of an idea of what awaits her in South Dakota.</p><p>A crackling sounds over the intercom and she looks up when she recognizes her flight number. She packs the file and its contents away in her bag once more and checks her boarding pass a final time before trudging off to board her flight.</p><p>
  <i>Rise and shine, Regina. You’re headed to Rapid City.</i>
</p><p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>The whole flight process ends up taking six-ish hours, and Regina loathes the fact that she’d had a layover because it meant her attempt to catch up on sleep had been interrupted. She’d spent most of her time stuck in Minneapolis reading a book she’d brought while trying valiantly not to pass out in the pages. There was only an hour before she could get back on a plane and go back to sleep, and then she’d be in South Dakota.<p>“Fucking South Dakota,” she’d grumbled, thumbing the edge of her page. “What’s even in South Dakota?”</p><p>It’s almost 9am by the time she lands at Rapid City Regional, and it takes a good chunk of time to navigate the airport. She gets her things from baggage claim and wanders a little aimlessly until she finds a parking lot, at that point remembering the car keys tucked away in Duvall’s file. It’s still at the top of her carry-on, so she’s able to retrieve the keys without too much trouble.</p><p>The car is simple, big and black with windows that have definitely been tinted. Standard government issue, really. When she swings into the drivers side, she takes note of all of the amenities. She punches the coordinates from the file into the GPS and pulls out of the parking lot, a tight feeling growing in her chest as the cityscape slowly thins out around her and is replaced with empty road and tall grass.</p><p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>“Turn right ahead.”<p>“You’ve gotta be shitting me, there’s literally no-” She slams on the brakes in frustration when the GPS announces that it’s recalculating. It had stopped being helpful when she turned off of the asphalt roads and ended up on dirt, directing her on odd paths and patronizing her whenever she missed a hidden turn.</p><p>The engine revs as she reverses back down the dirt road, stopping short when she notices an overgrown gate. A headache starts right between her eyes when she gets out of the car and into the blinding sunlight. There’s nothing to block it out in the fields of rural South Dakota, and she feels the heat on every part of her body as she pushes the gate open.</p><p>It’s been a long day and it’s only 11am, according to the clock in the car.</p><p>About a quarter mile passes before she abruptly stops, wondering if her eyes are playing tricks on her. She leans over the steering wheel and squints, feeling the air leave her lungs. The GPS is telling her to proceed down into the valley, and she’d initially been skeptical, but now…</p><p>Rocks ping against the car as she drives up to the monolithic… calling it a building seems inappropriate, given the immensity, but she doesn’t know another word to explain it. The roof peaks several stories off the ground and a design reminiscent of an airplane hangar. As she drives closer, she sees the years worth of rust that have built up on the metal supports, the walls.</p><p>It’s gargantuan.</p><p>It’s also the only thing for at least ten miles, nestled up against a mountain range in the midst of Fuck Off, South Dakota.</p><p>She gets out of the car and stares up the sheer face of the building, shading her eyes against the noontime sun. Standing right up against it she feels like an ant, or one of the Lilliputians when faced with Gulliver.</p><p>The door catches her eye at the exact moment that she hears a car engine. She turns, one hand falling to her holstered sidearm, and watches a vehicle similar to her own roll to a stop. With the glare of the sun and the strategic tint of the windshield, she can only make out a silhouette in the car, but her curiosity is quickly satisfied when the driver's side door opens and reveals the occupant.</p><p>A woman, wearing an incredibly casual outfit-- at least, compared to Regina’s own button up and slacks. She’s in snug fitting jeans, a Pink Floyd band tee, scuffed Doc Martens, and a leather jacket that highlights her shoulders and arms. The corner of her bottom lip curls between her teeth as she fixes her gaze on Regina, the path of her eyes hidden behind her sunglasses.</p><p>“Didn’t think anyone else would be here, I’ve gotta be honest,” the woman admits, leaning against her car and crossing her arms. She’s looking at the building now, her nose scrunched as she takes it all in. “Thought someone was trying to pull a fast one on me.”</p><p>“It would be a very elaborate prank.” Regina scans the valley of cracked earth and dust, searching for any other signs of life. She watches a tumbleweed traverse the barren landscape, but other than that, nothing moves except a few shadows that she assumes are lizards. “Special Agent Regina George-” she holds her hand out for a shake- “Secret Service.”</p><p>The woman hums and shakes her hand. “Janis Sarkisian, PI.” They both withdraw, Janis’ hands finding homes in her pockets. “So, that Duvall guy show up at your place too? Act all creepy and evasive?” She’s looking at Regina again, an eyebrow raised high enough that she can see it over the rim of her shades. “At the time, I thought my sleep deprived brain conjured him up, and I just agreed to make him go away.”</p><p>“Yeah, he has a habit of doing that.”</p><p>They both jump, Regina going for her gun while Janis flicks out a switchblade faster than she’s ever seen. With both of their weapons drawn, their newest visitor holds up one hand in a placating gesture, the other holding some metal-detector-looking-thing. “Woah, woah! Take a chill pill, I come in peace.”</p><p>“Jesus Christ, is it in the job description to sneak up on unsuspecting people?” Janis hisses, seeming reluctant to put her weapon away. “You work here?” She uses her head to indicate the building now at their backs, looming.</p><p>“Yes, I do. In fact,” they say, stripping off the bandana and woven hat they’d been wearing, revealing a middle aged woman with smile lines and the beginnings of crows feet at the edges of her eyes. “I’m your new boss. Sharon Norbury, Warehouse 13.”</p><p>Something about this woman-- Norbury-- pings in Regina’s brain. She holsters her gun and peers at her, brows drawn and eyes narrowed. “You!” she bursts out, pointing accusingly. “You’re the… I chased you through DC!”</p><p>“Yeah, you did,” Norbury says, brushing through the two of them and towards the building. When she doesn’t hear them following, she turns on her heels and gives them a strange look. “Are you coming, or are you only annoyingly persistent when I’m trying to make a clean getaway?”</p><p>Regina shares a look with Janis who shrugs. “We’ve already come all this way. No point in turning back now,” she reasons, stowing the switchblade inside her jacket and walking after Norbury, Regina following with a healthy dose of skepticism.</p><p>The door Regina had noted before Janis’ arrival pops open as they approach, swinging to reveal a set of concrete stairs. Norbury leads them down the short set of steps and into a blindingly bright, white corridor with curved walls and intermittent cylinders that rise from floor to ceiling and bear warning labels. “We call this the Umbilicus,” Norbury informs.</p><p>Janis reaches towards one of the cylinders, but quickly yanks her hand back when Norbury says, “Don’t touch the bombs.”</p><p>“Bombs?” Janis mouths to Regina, suddenly much more eager to be out of this corridor.</p><p>Norbury flips open a panel and puts her face against it, blue light flashing over her eyes quickly. It lets out a high pitched double beep before the door beside it unseals and swings open. “Sorry about the mess. We’ve been spread thin for a few weeks now, haven’t had much time to clean up.”</p><p>The office they step into is, as expected with that warning, messy. Papers and files are strewn about every spare surface, and there are precariously tall towers of books leaning this way and that, one breath away from falling over. Everything has an overall steampunk-y vibe, all brass fixtures and exposed copper wiring. There’s a computer terminal with three separate monitors, two of them blacked out, and the center one showing a moving map of something.</p><p>“You said ‘we’ve been spread thin.” Regina picks up a notecard from a nearby table and skims the contents, frowning before tossing it back where she’d found it. “Who is ‘we?”</p><p>“You’ll meet the rest of the team after the tour,” Norbury says, opening a heavy looking door with metal shutters. She holds it, waving for them to go through it, a grin growing on her face. “Don’t be shy.”</p><p>Regina goes through first, her jaw dropping as she steps onto the creaking metal balcony. Her fingers curl around the railing as she stares, vaguely registering the fact that Janis and Norbury are now either side of her. An awed “woah” escapes Janis.</p><p>Spreading out below and beyond them, stretching into the far distance, are shelves. Shelves upon shelves, stacked ten- twenty- thirty rows high. Blue sparks arc up and between the aisles, but Regina and Janis are too overwhelmed by the sheer size of this place to pay them too much mind.</p><p>“What is this place?” Janis whispers, leaning over the edge to try and see the end of it all.</p><p>“Agent George, Detective Sarkisian.” Norbury swings her arm out dramatically, gesturing to the vast expanse of history before them. “Welcome to Warehouse 13.”</p><p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Norbury leads them down to the main floor of the Warehouse to give them something of an abbreviated tour. She makes a comment that it would probably take multiple lifetimes to give an in depth tour of the whole Warehouse as they walk through aisles. Objects that seem inconsequential fill the shelves, but Norbury assures them that everything in here is incredibly dangerous and not to be underestimated, so Regina finds herself scanning the visual displays.<p>The more of them that she reads, the more she tries to stay in the center of the aisles.</p><p>“Agent George.” Norbury’s voice cuts through her thoughts. They’ve stopped next to a pair of mannequin legs on a plinth, pale beneath a pair of beige stockings. “These are what I was retrieving the night you chased me through DC.”</p><p>Janis leans forward to read the panel while Regina stares at the stockings. “Mata Hari’s Stockings. Stockings owned by the Dutch spy Margaretha Zelle, power of seduction, causes infatuation that may lead to… psychotic obsession and violence.” She pulls back, blinking. “You’re trying to tell me that if a dude touches these things he’ll just. Go ballistic?”</p><p>“If I hadn’t seen it, I probably wouldn’t believe it either,” Regina says quietly before clearing her throat. “This is all very interesting to see and experience, but I’m still not clear on what the hell I’m doing here.” She shifts her weight from foot to foot and fully faces Norbury, crossing her arms. “I’m Secret Service. My duty is to protect the president, so why me?”</p><p>“Uh, seconded,” Janis adds. “The shi- <i>stuff</i> I used to do before this was mostly catching cheating spouses and finding evidence for court cases because the police are bad at their jobs.”</p><p>Norbury hums and starts walking again, navigating the confusing maze of aisles with the ease of someone has walked them for years. “You both have something special about you. Mr. Duvall saw that in you, even before your respective introductions to our world. Once we saw how you reacted in the presence of artifacts, the decision was solidified.” She waves her hand at the shelves of artifacts as they pass. “Your assignment, while at the Warehouse, is to keep the world safe through finding and storing items just like Mata Hari’s Stockings.”</p><p>“So we’re glorified antique collectors.” Janis says disbelievingly, a slight uptick at the end of her statement. “Just with antiques that can send a man into a psychotic rage because he touched a leg.”</p><p>“I’ve known men who could get angry over less.” Regina rolls her eyes at the thought, smirking a little when she hears Janis snort beside her.</p><p>“If you want to think about it like that, sure, glorified antique collectors!” Norbury shakes her head and throws her hands up in the air. “Doesn’t matter what you call it, so long as you do your jobs.”</p><p>By the end of the tour, Regina’s head feels unbelievably full of information, both from things Norbury said and from the plaques and screens she was glancing over as they walked. She digs her thumb into her temple and circles it to alleviate some of the pressure in her head.</p><p>“Office, sweet office,” Norbury says, dropping into the chair behind the desk and beginning to type away at the terminal.</p><p>Janis looks between Regina and Norbury, then, hands in her pockets as she rocks on her feet. “Sooo… what are we supposed to do now?”</p><p>“Well-” Norbury spins in her chair, crossing one leg over the other- “there aren’t any pressing, artifact-related concerns. You both still have your things in the car, you haven’t already stopped by Miriam’s, right?”</p><p>“Who’s Miriam?” Janis questions.</p><p>Norbury barks out a laugh at that, startling both the expectant Janis and the absent Regina. She scratches the side of her neck as her chuckles lessen. “Miriam’s is where you two will be staying, with the rest of the team, for the foreseeable future. It’s a few miles out of town, probably a fifteen minute drive from here.”</p><p>When they just continue to stand in the office, staring at her, Norbury raises her eyebrows at them. “Get moving, agents. I heard Gretchen is making pumpkin pie, and I’m not sure there’ll be much left if you dilly dally.”</p><p>“I don’t eat sugar,” Regina mutters under her breath at the same time that Janis says:</p><p>“I fucking <i>love pie.”</i></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Settling In</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Janis thinks back on how she got where she is, Regina observes Janis, and they finally figure out who Miriam is.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Janis doesn’t exactly know how she got caught up in this mess.</p><p>Well, that’s a little bit of a lie.</p><p>
  <em>It starts when a woman strides into her office at noon one day. She’s dressed head-to-toe in designer threads, looking incredibly out of place as she examines the bookshelf of knick knacks that Janis has to make the whole place more cozy. Nothing really matches-- she’d thrifted most of the furniture, because, sue her, she’s fucking cheap-- and she gets the feeling the woman doesn’t vibe with the decor.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Amanda Richmond is the name she gives Janis as she seats herself, primly adjusting her outfit like all of the rich people that come through her door do.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“My husband has been cheating on me for months,” she says, not sounding too bothered. “I want a divorce, but I need evidence before I go to a lawyer.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Prenup screwing you out of a fortune?” Janis surmises. It’s a story she gets a lot from people who marry into their money. When they want a divorce, they come to her to find any possible violations of the prenup so they can walk away with at least some money. It’s smart, and lucrative for Janis.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I would end up with nothing,” Ms. Richmond whispers. “Back where I started before I married him.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Cheating spouse cases are routine. Chicago’s a big city-- an expensive one to live in, on top of that-- and rich people are always out and about cheating on their significant others. It’s like they never learn from their mistakes, but Janis is glad that they don’t; it means more money for her.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>By the end of the fourth day, Janis had most everything she needed to convince a judge of adultery: incriminating text messages, suspicious phone calls, a second home address… all that was left, the final nail in the coffin, were pictures of the cheating in action. Hard evidence was always the most difficult part, because serial cheaters are both stupid and smart.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Janis closes the sliding glass door with a roll of her eyes. Typical rich guy. Buys a separate house for his extramarital activities, doesn’t even bother furnishing it beyond the bedroom. No alarm system, no cameras someone could hack into. Not even a guard dog.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Dipshit.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The house is split-level, so she quietly makes her way up to the second floor where she assumes the husband takes his conquests. If it weren’t the second address of a man she knows almost certainly is cheating on his wife, Janis might be a bit jealous of how nice it is. Nicer than her shitty apartment.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Once she gets to the bedroom, it’s almost disappointingly barren. This guy seriously doesn’t want people finding shit on him. There’s a bed with crisp sheets, a wardrobe, and a desk with a typewriter. All of his furnishings match, everything is either dark wood or off-white, and the more Janis pokes around, the less she finds.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her last stop is the desk in the corner of the room. The fact that a rich guy has a typewriter doesn’t surprise her. Lots of people like to think owning a typewriter makes you hipster, and everyone seems to think they have a novel somewhere inside of them. So, if you combine the two ideas, you get a person that Janis most assuredly wouldn’t like.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Typewriter does imply a…” she trails off, opening a few drawers before she accidentally kicks something metal under the desk. When she looks, a devious grin blooms across her face. “Bingo.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Janis grabs the small trash can from under the desk and sets it on the chair, sifting through the balls of crumpled paper. She picks one at random, unfolding and flattening it on the desk. Her brows furrow when she realizes it’s just the same quote, over and over, all the way to the end of the page.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I had an inheritance from my father. It was the moon and the sun, and though I roam all over the world. The spending of it is never done.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It reads like a poem, and something about it feels eerily familiar to her. Almost like it’s something she had to read in high school English fucking ages ago. She traces her finger over the inked on words, trailing them down the length of the page. The longer she looks at it, the more it feels like a heavy stone has taken up residence in her gut, dragging her down.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She pulls another bunched paper out of the can. It’s in the same format as the last one, but the quote reads:</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, some are strong at the broken places.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Janis has to hold onto the desk as a feeling of dread seems to grow from the stone in her gut. She takes out a third ball, the sensation of wrongness only intensifying as she smooths out the crinkles in the paper.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The words are normal, or as normal as creepy quotes spanning entire pages can be, at the beginning, but as she scans down, her hand begins to tremble.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Around the middle of the page, the font color turns red, and she drops the paper when the quote registers in her mind.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“There is nothing to writing. All you do is sit down at a typewriter and bleed.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“What the fuck.” Janis pushes away from the desk, away from the papers that seem to be causing the itchiness at the base of her spine. She scratches and scratches at her skin; no relief comes, and everything gets worse when she hears a door open downstairs. “Shit.” Her shaking hand stuffs itself in her jacket pocket, holding tightly to the switchblade her brother had gotten her for her sixteenth birthday.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>There’s no way out from the bedroom, unless Janis wants to jump out of a fucking window from the second story. Best case scenario, she lands in the hedges in the back garden and can make a clean getaway. She steps towards it, peering out at the concrete patio.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Worst case scenario, she breaks a leg or two and ends up having to deal with police for breaking and entering.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>God, she does not want to get arrested again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Footsteps echo in the house, given its lack of furniture, and Janis can tell that whoever is inside has moved deeper into the house. There’s a split second where she’s worried that she left the sliding glass door open, but she distinctly remembers shutting it behind her upon entry. If she can just sneak down the stairs, she can book it for the front door and disappear into whatever Chicagoan suburb they’re in and look for evidence somewhere else.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The wooden floor creaks under her feet, but she just hopes that Rich Husband will assume it’s house settling noises. Maybe even a ghost, if he’s feeling supernatural. Plenty of rich people believe in ghosts, don’t they?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She’s so fucking screwed.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Janis is halfway down the stairs when-</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Hey! Who the hell are-!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She vaults over the bannister and draws her switch, flicking out the blade as she faces Rich Husband. His eyes dart between her and the weapon she’s holding, and she wonders if he’s ever dealt with anything remotely life-threatening… literally ever.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The way he charges her makes her think that maybe he’s fucking pissed.</em>
</p><p><em>Muscle memory kicks in and she goes to deflect his attack, but she underestimates his strength-- or overestimates her self-defense skills-- and ends up in an intense grapple with him. She doesn’t want to hurt him, mostly because adding assault with a deadly weapon to her steadily growing rap sheet is not how she wants her early thirties to be going. If she can just get him</em> off <em>of her, that’d be pretty fucking great!</em></p><p>
  <em>She breaks free for a moment and swings out, clocking him hard in the jaw and sending him reeling. Her knuckles are definitely going to bruise, but it doesn’t feel like anything’s broken as Rich Husband lunges and grabs her again.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Her back is facing the interior of the house now, so she doesn’t see the sliding glass door as it opens, only hears a voice yell “turn!”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Rich Husband looks over her shoulder at the intruder, and it gives her enough leeway to swing them around so she’s now facing the-</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Arcs of blue electricity race over Rich Husband’s body, and she wrenches her hands away when she feels the current travelling through her. All of her hair is standing on end, and the scent of ozone blankets the house now. Her chest heaves as she tries to catch her breath, blinking rapidly.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Are you one of his lovers?” the intruder-- they’re both intruders, for god's sake-- questions.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Gross, no,” Janis immediately replies, shaking out her hands like it’ll free her from the bad feeling crawling under her skin. “Are you?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Listen, hun, we only have a few minutes before this poor bastard wakes up and finds us both in his house, so how about we move this along and you just tell me what’s made this guy a serial cheat, hm?” The guy shoves past her, waving around a flashlight with a purple bulb. He looks over her with it, sniffing. “No fudge.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The emotional whiplash that she’s feeling is immense, because she’s standing over the still smoking body of a man she was sent to investigate, and now there’s another person involved. A very… confusingly direct and odd man.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Plenty of rich people are serial cheaters, what makes this guy so special?” Janis asks, stowing her blade away and crossing her arms. This guy clearly doesn’t have any intention to hurt her, unlike Rich Husband, but she’s still confused as to why he’s also breaking and entering. Did Ms. Richmond hire another PI?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“You sure ask a lot of questions,” the man observes, choosing to dodge her by going up the stairs. She notices a large, metal canister dangling from his shoulder, now that their angles have changed. “Make sure he stays down. Kick him a little if you have to, I don’t care.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Who the hell are you?” Janis calls after him, but he’s already disappeared upstairs.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>A few minutes pass where she anxiously stands over Rich Husbands body. For a brief moment, she wonders if he’s even alive. She nudges him with her foot and recoils a little when he groans, eyelids fluttering. Shit, if he wakes up while they’re still here, it won’t be good for anyone involved, and she might not be adding assault with a deadly weapon to her list of crimes, but murder.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Why she doesn’t just run out the front door once her odd companion is upstairs is beyond her, but something tells her to stay right where she is. Like the feeling that told her to back up from the cryptic notes, but… lighter. Like sunlight washing over your skin at the beach.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“For your information, I am Damian Hubbard.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Janis looks up from Rich Husband to the man at the top of the steps. He’s got a pair of circular, steampunk-y looking goggles in his hair now, and he looks extremely pleased with himself as he descends. “Special Agent Hubbard, United States Secret Service.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>The laugh that she lets out is unseemly, but she doesn’t care, because- “you’re telling me that one of the president’s men broke into some rich asshole’s house to… what, diffuse a bomb? Find evidence of a terrorist cell?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mmm… you’re cute, but no, none of those things,” Agent Hubbard says, patting the top of the canister. “I’m part of a very small organization. Still Secret Service, but we focus on retrieval of items that threaten the safety of everyone.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I feel like I’m on absinthe,” Janis mutters. “Is this what it feels like to be on absinthe?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Agent Hubbard chuckles and shakes his head, patting her on the shoulder. “Funny you mention absinthe. Hemingway quite enjoyed that particular drink.” He motions towards the canister again. “You’ll understand soon, hun. Now run along back to your office. I left a present for you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Wait, what the- my office?” Janis sputters as she finally comprehends what’s happening, grabbing Agent Hubbard and whipping him back around when he tries to walk out the sliding glass door. “What the fuck is going on?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“I told you you’d understand soon,” Agent Hubbard says. “We should be going before Mr. Richmond wakes up, Detective Sarkisian.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>Then, with a speed Janis is astounded by, Agent Hubbard has disappeared, climbing over the fence and jogging off. She blinks and gapes after him, only knocked out of her stupor by the groan of Rich Husband in the foyer, something that spurs her into action. Her body moves on autopilot, her mind firing on all cylinders, picking apart every part of the strange interactions between her and Agent Hubbard.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>His vibe was good. Really good, actually. One of the best she’d ever gotten from a person.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But her office?</em>
</p><p>
  <em>An hour later, securely back in her office, Janis finds herself staring at a folder of photographs, all depicting Rich Husband with some other woman. She has no idea how Agent Hubbard snuck these into her office, or how he even got them, but…</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Ms. Richmond?” she says, still looking at the photos. “We’ve got him.”</em>
</p><p> </p><p> </p><p></p><div class="center">
  <p>
    <b>***</b>
  </p>
</div><p>The drive from the Warehouse is silent, save for the quiet sound of the radio that Janis had turned on before kicking her booted feet up onto the dash and slumping in the passenger's seat. Regina can tell that the detective is lost in thought, so she doesn’t bother her for the fifteen minutes they’re alone together, instead choosing to simply observe. Perhaps something can be learned just by looking.</p><p>A few things immediately jump out at her, just from her general mannerisms and the presence that she exudes. Regina knows that she’s a Private Investigator, a career she’d never even considered in light of her own craving for structure. She gets the sense that Janis is the type to chafe under authority that isn’t her own, and that she chose being a PI over, say, the FBI because of it.</p><p>The next thing that she catalogues away is the way Janis has a careful carelessness to her being. She’d kicked her feet up, but she’d been watching Regina at the same time, gauging her expression before turning to look out the top of the windshield with unfocused eyes. It’s obvious that she would’ve taken her feet down if Regina had given away any sign of disapproval.</p><p>Well, this is all obvious to her. People always loved to praise her “scrupulous eye for detail,” but sometimes her attentiveness could be a thorn in her parents’ sides when their young daughter spoke on her observations. It probably wasn’t the best thing to hear over the phone, that your daughter had made a comment about how her teacher always used to wear a wedding ring, so where’d it go?</p><p>She’d since learned to be more tactful.</p><p>Approximately seven minutes into the drive, Regina notices the mottled bruises decorating Janis’ right knuckles. She only sees it because Janis has begun fidgeting with her rings, shifting impatiently in the seat, probably yearning for literally anything interesting to catch her attention. There’s not much to view as they drive through the badlands of South Dakota, Regina will give her that.</p><p>“You’ve been staring at me this whole drive,” Janis comments, finally turning her head to look at Regina head on. Her eyebrow is raised over the edge of her sunglasses. “Shouldn’t you be watching the road?”</p><p>“Not staring,” she corrects, watching as the buildings begin to thin out and are replaced by grass and trees. “Observing.”</p><p>“Is there a difference?”</p><p>“Observing is just staring, but with purpose,” Regina says smartly, slowing down the car when she sees a signpost on the side of the road. She leans forward to make out the small text, and when she sees an arrow pointing towards a dirt road with “Miriam’s” over it, she figures this is <em>probably</em> where Norbury wanted them to go.</p><p>Janis snorts and slumps back in her seat. “Whatever you say, George.”</p><p>Dirt transitions to gravel, crunching beneath their tires as they drive up the path to the old Victorian-style building raised above the rest of the trees and greenery. It’s two stories with lots of big windows, painted an inviting light blue. There’s a patio that wraps around the front and side of the building, shaded by the overhanging roof.</p><p>“Maybe staying here won’t be fucking awful,” Janis says, mostly to herself. She waits for Regina to park before pushing the door open with unneeded force and stepping out onto the gravel drive. Her arms stretch high over her head and she groans, not noticing the blonde woman further up the walk that’s watching them both curiously.</p><p>Regina notices her, though.</p><p>“Hello?” she calls, raising her hand in greeting as she trudges up to her. The crunch of footsteps follows her until Janis is stood beside her as well, both of them facing-</p><p>“Are you Miriam?” Janis says, interrupting her thought process.</p><p>“No, silly,” the woman says, waving her hand as though that’s a stupid question. “I’m Karen!” Then, unprecedentedly, she reaches out and pulls Regina into a tight hug. The surprised squeak that Regina lets out is something she will deny to her grave, and her arms remain stiffly at her side. When Karen pulls back, she keeps Regina held by the shoulders, eyes roving over her body. “You’re either gonna love or hate Damian.”</p><p>Janis and Regina share a confused look before the former is given the same sudden hug and inspection. She returns the hug more than Regina had, awkwardly patting Karen on the back while she’s being held, before sending a panicked look to Regina when she’s looked at for what feels like eons.</p><p>“It’s like tie-dye,” Karen whispers, her hands coming to pat the air about a foot away from Janis’ head. Her eyes are filled with wonder, like she’s seen something beautiful.</p><p>Regina is a confident enough woman that she can concede that the detective is attractive, but she doesn’t think it warrants the way Karen’s looking at her in comparison to how quickly she’d inspected Regina.</p><p>“What the fuck is going on?” Janis whispers, eyes wide and round. She shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, and Karen seems to recognize this, letting her hands drop to her sides as she gives them both a worried look.</p><p>“You guys <em>are</em> the Warehouse agents Norbury told us were coming, right?” Karen asks, head tilted to the side like a confused golden retriever. If Regina wasn’t so bewildered by everything that’s been happening, she might consider it adorable. “Agents George and Sarkisian?”</p><p>“No, that’s us,” Janis confirms. “Just a bit, uh-”</p><p>“Startled?” Regina interjects, her face pinching a bit.</p><p>“I’m more confused, but yeah, startled too.”</p><p>Karen brightens instantly and claps her hands together, bouncing where she stands. “Oh! That’s fine, everyone’s a bit nervous on their first day. The first time Gretchen actually saw the Warehouse she got so overwhelmed by how big it was that she-”</p><p>“Karen!”</p><p>“Do you think <em>she’s</em> Miriam?” Janis whispers to Regina. The blonde turns to look at Janis with an expression of ‘why do you keep asking this?’ as she takes her aviators off and tucks them inside of her blazer.</p><p>A woman briskly walks down the porch steps and joins them on the gravel. She has big, brown, curly hair and kind eyes, a little bit of nervousness showing through her smile. “I’m so sorry I couldn’t be out here to greet you when you arrived! I had to get the pies out of the oven and make sure Damian wouldn’t steal any of them.”</p><p>Janis’ eyes light up at the mention of pie, and she quickly shakes the woman’s hand. “Janis Sarkisian, PI.”</p><p>“That makes you Agent George,” the woman says, shaking Regina’s hand next. “I’m Gretchen, I own the B&amp;B.”</p><p>Regina feels the question coming before Janis asks:</p><p>“Who’s Miriam then?”</p><p>Karen giggles and nudges Gretchen with her shoulder. “Miriam is Gretch’s mom.”</p><p>“When my mom acquired the B&amp;B he named it after my mom,” Gretchen explains quickly, her words almost running together. She gestures back at the building and smiles. “And then he passed it down to me, and I wasn’t going to change the name, because I love my mom too.”</p><p>Janis nods slowly, looking like she’s still processing everything, so Regina decides to take the lead. “We have our bags, should we just-?”</p><p>Gretchen jumps a little, her face coloring with embarrassment. “Right! Get your things, I’ll show you around and you can pick your rooms.” She shoos them with a quick hand motion and then whispers something to Karen who salutes her and darts off into the building. When she sees their raised eyebrows, she says, “She’s letting Damian know you’re here.”</p><p>They both turn to the car, but Janis turns on her heel just as fast to look back at Gretchen. “I met Damian!”</p><p>“You did,” Gretchen says. “Hurry up and get your things, then you can properly be introduced to him.”</p><p>Regina’s got a significant amount of luggage compared to Janis’ backpack and one suitcase, so they share the load and carry it all into the B&amp;B. The grateful smile Regina sends her isn’t lost, just stored away in Janis’ brain.</p><p>Miriam’s has a very cozy vibe about it. The furniture is all dark, sturdy looking wood and the walls are painted a calm green. In the living room that they pass, there is an <em>incredibly</em> comfortable looking couch, as well as a few armchairs and a lovesac that surround an unlit brick fireplace.</p><p>Gretchen leads them up the stairs, talking as they go. “We serve three meals: 9am, 12pm, 6pm. If you want to eat outside of those hours, just don’t blow up my kitchen.”</p><p>“I sense a story behind that,” Regina mutters to Janis. The brunette snorts and urges her further up the stairs, hefting the dusty pink suitcase that doesn’t belong to her so she can get a better grip.</p><p>There are four doors on the second level that lead into bedrooms, and then another door further down the hall that Gretchen tells them is the shared bathroom. “That one is Damian’s-” she points to the closest door on their right- “but any of these other rooms are available to you. Take your pick.”</p><p>Regina decides to pick first, seeing as Janis is just staring dumbly at the doors instead of moving. She picks the one beside Damian’s apparent room, telling Janis to just leave her bags by the door and that she’ll bring them in. “Pick a room, Detective,” she finishes.</p><p>While Regina is unpacking, she hears Janis pick a room and start doing the same, but then she hears: “Where do you and Karen sleep?”</p><p>“Karen and I share the room on the bottom floor, by the stairs. It’s right below Regina’s room,” she hears Gretchen say.</p><p>
  <em>“Where’s the fresh meat?!”</em>
</p><p>The voice that carries through the B&amp;B is decidedly male, and Regina guesses that it belongs to the famous Damian that Gretchen and Karen keep mentioning. She leans out of her room and locks eyes with Janis who’s standing in her own door frame, directly across from her room.</p><p>“‘Sup, roomie,” Janis greets teasingly.</p><p>Regina snorts.</p><p>Heavy, quick footsteps reach them before the one and only Damian reaches the second floor. He’s built like a linebacker, is Regina’s first thought, tall and large and bursting with confidence if his genial smile is anything to go by. His hair is light brown and curly, and his eyes sparkle with mirth as he strikes a dramatic pose at the top of the stairs. “Ladies, your new favorite person has arrived!”</p><p>“I’m surprised it took you this long to crash the welcome wagon,” Gretchen says, offering a small amount of applause as he bows.</p><p>“That Hawaiian shirt is <em>offensive,</em>” Janis comments, pointedly staring at the garish, red-orange shirt Damian is wearing. She sounds more impressed than critical, but Regina does have to agree with her.</p><p>Damian tuts, crossing his arms and shaking his head. “Everything I do in this godforsaken state is considered offensive, but that’s not gonna stop me from being fabulous.”</p><p>The whole interaction is decidedly absurd, so Regina just laughs under her breath and returns to unpacking. She gets what Karen meant when she said she’d either love or hate Damian. He seems like a very strong personality, and living with him is going to be a test of her patience, but she gets the sense that he’s an overall cool guy.</p><p>“Hey, George.”</p><p>She looks up from where she’d been putting away her meticulously folded shirts to see Janis standing just beyond her room, hands in her pockets as she inspects her room. “Pretty swanky place you got here.”</p><p>Regina chuckles and shuts the drawer with her hip, leaning against the dresser. “Did you need something, <em>Detective?</em>” she asks, teasingly putting extra emphasis on her title.</p><p>“Well, Gretchen made pie, and Damian said we should play Monopoly.” Janis’ nose scrunches a little at the mention of the board game, like she’d rather do anything else other than play Monopoly. “Team building or some shit.”</p><p>“I don’t eat sugar,” she says automatically, a conditioned response to someone offering her a dessert. When she sees the way Janis’ eyes crinkle at the edges, though, she amends and finishes with, “I will, however, be down in a minute to crush you in Monopoly.”</p><p>“Do you want me to reserve a game piece for you? Karen already claimed the dog,” Janis teases, scuffing her socked toes against the creaking wood floor of the B&amp;B.</p><p>Regina purses her lips thoughtfully, tapping her chin before she says, “Save the battleship for me?”</p><p>“Aye aye, Captain,” Janis replies, mockingly saluting her before turning to meet the others downstairs.</p><p>Now, finally alone on the second floor, Regina takes a moment to let everything sink in. It feels like she’s just on vacation, that she’ll be returning to DC in a week to resume her life. She’s still trying to comprehend the fact that this is her life now. These strange people in this strange state working for even <em>stranger</em> people.</p><p>She hears a commotion downstairs, something about Damian taking too big of a slice from the pie, and snorts. Working for the Secret Service was a lonely life, and perhaps working for an entirely off-the-books government facility will make her even more isolated, but at least she has a few people with her now.</p><p>Her eyes find Janis’ door across the hall, and she smiles, thinking about the game waiting for her.</p><p><em>“God, she’s taking forever,”</em> Damian groans. <em>“George, I’ve got a score to settle with Gretchen, hurry your tight little ass down here so I can beat her at Monopoly!”</em></p><p>Nothing about this makes sense, Regina thinks as she pushes off of the bed-- <em>her</em> bed-- but she’s been through harder things in her life. She’ll adapt, just like she always does, and as she makes her way down the stairs and finds her new coworkers battling over who gets to be the top hat, she thinks that maybe it won’t be so bad.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Deep Thinking</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Dinner is shared between the agents, old and new, and Regina and Janis figure out where they fit amongst the pre-existing three.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>No one ends up winning Monopoly.</p>
<p>Karen goes bankrupt almost immediately, and they’re all impressed and concerned by how quickly she lost all of her money to every other player. Janis is next, a series of unlucky rolls, drawn cards, and payments sending her straight into the hole with Karen. It eventually gets to the point where Damian has stopped taking his turns because Gretchen and Regina bartered for and bought half of the board each and it’s not even worth it, so he just tosses his money and goes to get another slice of pie.</p>
<p>Regina likes to think that she would’ve won in the end, but they stopped the game before she could bleed Gretchen dry.</p>
<p>Now, her, Janis, and Damian are sprawled across the living room, whiling the time away until Gretchen and Karen finish dinner. They sit in silence for a few minutes, just letting everything sink in, before Regina gets bored of not doing anything and decides to peruse the bookshelf. The books are organized uniquely, grouped by authors and then either ordered in series or alphabetically. She’s amazed by the diversity, from philosophy and history to A Song of Ice and Fire and the entire Percy Jackson series.</p>
<p>“Do you guys have a lot of time for reading, working for the Warehouse?” Regina asks curiously, pulling one book at random from the shelf. She flips it so she can see the cover, raising her eyebrow when she reads the title: La metamorfosi. “Which one of you reads Kafka? In German?”</p>
<p>Damian gives her a dry look and gestures vaguely towards the kitchen. “That copy is Gretchen’s personal one, all marked up for your reading pleasure.” He dramatically heaves himself off of the lovesac, moving to stand beside her at the bookshelf, automatically plucking the book from her hands and putting it back in its place. “If you’re looking for reading material you should pick something up next time you’re at the Warehouse. First editions of everything ever printed.”</p>
<p>“Everything?” Janis interjects, tone colored with disbelief. In the seconds since Regina last looked at her, she’s moved so that she’s sitting upside down on the couch, her dark hair touching the polished floor. “How’s that possible?”</p>
<p>“Anything’s possible here, hun,” he says.</p>
<p>The detective still looks a little skeptical, but she just shakes her head and leaves the room, muttering that she’ll be right back and that she just has to grab something to pass the time.</p>
<p>“I figured she’d be the one more receptive to this,” Damian comments when she doesn’t resurface for a few moments. They can hear things moving upstairs, no matter how light her footsteps are.</p>
<p>Regina raises her eyebrow at him, now flipping through a book on the French Revolution. “Elaborate?”</p>
<p>“You were both chosen for your individual… talents, we’ll say,” he explains. “Everyone at the Warehouse is. There’s logic behind everything. A big chess game, if you will.”</p>
<p>“Where are we in this chess game?” she questions, snapping the book shut. She hasn’t read French in awhile and the technical, dry nature of the book is starting to give her a headache, not to mention all the confusing underlines, highlights, and notes (also in French).</p>
<p>“Pawns, sadly. We move in direct lines, follow orders, and sacrifice ourselves to protect the King.” Something starts to beep in the kitchen and Damian holds a hand up to pause their conversation. “Sounds like dinner’s ready. Wanna help me set the table, George?”</p>
<p>Regina nods slowly, replacing the book on the shelf and following Damian into the dining room. Cozy, like the rest of the B&amp;B, with shelves full of little knick knacks and a big, round table in the center of the room. She takes the handful of silverware that Damian thrusts into her hands, trying to recall the rules of etiquette she had learned as a child.</p>
<p>Janis returns at the same moment that Gretchen and Karen start carrying platters and dishes out of the kitchen, putting them on different mats across the table. She looks a little blown away by the spread, and Regina can definitely second that, because-</p>
<p>“Did you guys invite an entire fucking football team to join us for dinner?” Janis asks incredulously. “Or is this all for us?” She waits and watches as Damian, Gretchen, and Karen take their seats, obviously having a usual arrangement for eating together.</p>
<p>When Regina and Janis continue to stand in shock, Gretchen gestures at the other chairs. “Please, sit.”</p>
<p>The dumbfounded agents take the last two chairs around the table, though Regina does note that there’s a chair off in the corner that could probably be dragged over if they had another guest.</p>
<p>Dinner is an interesting affair. Neither Janis or Regina is used to eating with other people after years of living alone. They both fumble a little with the platters as they pass them around, taking their shares before handing it off to the next person to take from. To ease the awkward tension, Janis makes a throwaway comment about how her family only ever ate together for holidays.</p>
<p>“My father instilled in me the importance of sharing meals with family,” Gretchen says, nodding seriously. “Every night we’d have dinner together, talk about our days. It was mandated family time.”</p>
<p>“Well, <i>my</i> father instilled in me deep seated abandonment issues and an abysmal sense of self-worth,” Damian replies smartly, taking a stab at some of the asparagus on his plate. “Beat that, Wieners.” When he sees the way that Janis and Regina are staring at him, he quickly says, “You guys can laugh, y’know? If you’re going to be living here, you have to laugh at my jokes.”</p>
<p>Gretchen lets out a long suffering sigh and shakes her head. “Excuse Damian, he doesn’t know when it’s appropriate to start making jokes about his daddy issues.”</p>
<p>There’s a <i>very</i> pregnant pause. Regina’s staring at her plate, considering the consequences of changing the topic when Janis opens her mouth and says:</p>
<p>“Do you guys wanna hear the story of the first time I was arrested?”</p>
<p>With the enthusiastic nods from the others at the table bolstering her, she begins to spin a wild tale in between bites of the delicious dinner Gretchen and Karen had prepared. It’s a rollercoaster from start to finish that involves weed, Janis’ guy friend pissing in an alleyway right next to a cop car, and some <i>light</i> trespassing. Oh, and apparently a smart comment from the detective along the lines of, “what are you gonna do, cop, huh? Arrest me?”</p>
<p>Conversation flows naturally from that point on, the ice thoroughly broken. It’s interesting, the way they all seem to mesh in different ways.</p>
<p>Regina finds herself talking to Gretchen about the books in the living room, and the brunette enthusiastically discusses her favorite classics with her. She promises to pick out some of her personal collection for Regina to read, and to show her the Warehouse library if she wants to pick up some of the first editions Damian mentioned earlier.</p>
<p>Every now and then, Janis or Damian will inject themselves into their conversation, oftentimes with a silly story from either the former’s college years or the latter’s time with the Warehouse.</p>
<p>It’s pleasant, and it’s easy, but as everything begins to wind down Regina feels the reality of the situation sinking in. This is her new normal, sharing dinner with these four strangers who she now lives with, collecting dangerous antiques from god knows where and who knows what. She’s not returning to DC, not anytime soon, and she has the bitter realization that this is exactly how off balance she felt when she was discharged from the Marines.</p>
<p>“You done with this?”</p>
<p>She blinks and looks up from her plate, empty but for some crumbs. Gretchen and Damian have since disappeared from the table, but she can hear them lightly bickering in the kitchen. Karen’s still sitting, playing with a toothpick, and Janis is standing next to her, holding a stack of plates with her hand outstretched to pick up Regina’s.</p>
<p>“Yeah, thanks,” Regina says, pushing the plate into Janis’ waiting hand. She doesn’t even remember finishing, even if her full stomach tells her she ate everything she’d dished up for herself. When she looks over the table, she sees Karen watching her with a serene smile on her face, the toothpick twirling in her fingers.</p>
<p>“Are you okay, Regina?” Karen asks kindly. It’s innocent, just like she seems to be, but something about the way her hazel eyes look at her, almost <i>into</i> her…</p>
<p>“I think I’m going to shower,” she says instead of answering, pushing away from the table. “And go to bed. It’s been a long day.” The weight of Karen’s stare follows her until she reaches the second floor. She takes a deep breath once she’s on the landing and out of sight before going to her room to assemble her toiletries and throw on a robe. Sharing a bathroom reminds her of when she was in college, a little bit.</p>
<p>When she opens the door back up, she looks across the hall into Janis’ room and sees that she’s in the midst of unpacking her clothes onto the bed. She must hear Regina open her door because she looks up and sends her a shoddy, two finger salute. “Nice robe, dude. You showering?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Regina sighs out, fiddling with the edge of her towel. “Figured I’d steal the bathroom before anyone else did. Make the most of the hot water and then head to bed.” Now that she’s saying it, it sounds a little selfish, but she’s just now remembering-- and feeling-- the fact that she’s been up since 2am and she’d spent six hours either on planes or in airports, so she thinks it’s justified.</p>
<p>“Well, uh, goodnight. I guess?” Janis straightens out and scratches the back of her neck, and it’s at this point that Regina realizes she’s also changed into more comfortable clothes: a baggy, crewneck sweatshirt with the words ‘UC Santa Cruz’ across the chest and a pair of black athletic shorts. “See you in the morning?”</p>
<p>“Right, the morning.” She gives somewhat of an awkward wave before walking to the bathroom, letting the door click shut behind her before she leans heavily against it, her eyes sliding shut.</p>
<p>Living with other people is going to take some getting used to, certainly. She hasn’t done that since college. It feels like she’s always had her own space to be alone, and now… now she lives across from a sometimes law-breaking detective and beside a very flamboyant- she’s still not totally clear on why Damian’s working with the Warehouse. They hadn’t exactly had the chance to discuss those “talents” he mentioned during the conversation earlier.</p>
<p>The water sputters for a few moments before finally coming out in a steady stream, cold to the touch. She shrugs her robe off and shivers as the cool air washes over her bare skin. Her hands rub some warmth into her arms as she waits for the water to heat up before finally stepping into the shower stall.</p>
<p>Tight muscles relax under the rhythmic beating of the warm water, and she feels some relief as she stands for just a few moments before pumping some shampoo into her hands and starting to wash her hair. The vanilla scent is familiar, the only familiar thing she has in this place, and it grounds her in the moment.</p>
<p>Regina George is nothing if not adaptable, but that doesn’t change the fact that she- well- <i>hates change</i>. Ever since she was a little girl, down to the brand of bubble bath she used, nothing was allowed to change. Routine was ingrained in every aspect of her life, and now she’s reassigned to some secret government organization in South Dakota?</p>
<p>She’s glad that it didn’t take another near death experience to change her life so drastically for the second time, but seriously? South Dakota.</p>
<p>At least her coworkers seem tolerable, nice even. Dinner wasn’t unbearable, and neither was Monopoly, and she hopes that the lightheartedness and camaraderie continues as it is. Gretchen, Karen, and Damian already seem to have a strong relationship, she just hopes that adding her and Janis into the mix won’t mess anything up.</p>
<p>By the time she’s finished washing and her body and shaving, she feels like she’s spent a significant amount of time in the shower, but she dreads having to leave. Leaving means returning to this odd reality she now lives in.</p>
<p>She watches the last of the soap swirl down the drain before she finally twists the handle to turn the shower off. A good amount of steam has built up in the bathroom and the mirror is completely fogged up when she walks past it to grab her towel. She dries off and goes about the last of her nightly routine before exiting the bathroom.</p>
<p>Janis’ door is closed by the time she gets back into the hall, but Damian’s door is wide open and she hears snickering coming from within. She approaches and knocks twice against the doorframe, raising an eyebrow slightly at the way Janis is sprawled across Damian’s bed while the owner of the room himself is spinning in his desk chair. “Bathroom’s free.”</p>
<p>“Did you save any hot water for the rest of us?” Damian teases, planting his feet to stop his turning. “Felt like you were in there for half a century.”</p>
<p>“Well, apologies in advance if I didn’t,” she says airily. “But now I’m going to bed. Gretchen said that breakfast is served at 9am, right?”</p>
<p>“On the dot,” Damian confirms, tapping the watch strapped to his left wrist.</p>
<p>Regina nods slowly before flashing them one final smile. “See you both in the morning then.” Her eyes halt a little when she meets Janis’ gaze, dark brown eyes inspecting her curiously before glancing away.</p>
<p>“Sweet dreams!” Damian calls after her.</p>
<p>She falls asleep almost as soon as her head hits the pillow, and it’s more than she ever could’ve asked for.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b></b>
</p>
<p></p><div class="center">
  <p>***</p>
</div>Janis doesn’t stick around in the kitchen long after bringing the dishes in, mostly because Gretchen shoos her out and says it’s literally in her job description to feed the Warehouse agents and keep the B&amp;B tidy. She stands in the dining room for a short moment before going upstairs to her room to get some of her unpacking done.<p>When she remembers the sheer amount of luggage Regina has in comparison to her meager suitcase and backpack, she wonders if she underpacked for this new… whatever the hell she’s gotten into. She frowns and starts laying out the clothes and other things from her suitcase on her bed. If she stretches it, she’ll probably have enough for two weeks before laundry needs to be done, and she idly wonders if Gretchen’s going to be doing that too or if she’s going to have to do her own.</p>
<p>...even if Gretchen offered, she’d probably still feel more comfortable doing her own laundry, but hey, she’s not gonna complain about the free lodging and food that otherwise comes with living at Miriam’s.</p>
<p>A door creaks behind her and she looks up, smiling slightly when she sees Regina in a very comfortable looking, light pink robe. She’s got a towel in her arms, and a bag of toiletries dangling from one hand. “Nice robe, dude,” she chuckles after giving a stupid salute. “You showering?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, figured I’d steal the bathroom before anyone else did. Make the most of the hot water and then head to bed,” she explains, nose scrunching a little when she finishes. She shifts her weight from foot to foot before sniffing and shrugging.</p>
<p>“Well, uh, goodnight. I guess.” It’s a little weird seeing the other agent like this. Janis hasn’t lived with other people in a very long time, but she still never really saw any of her past roommates in a fuzzy pink robe before they got in the shower, not to mention the fact that they had only met that afternoon. “See you in the morning?”</p>
<p>“Right, the morning,” Regina replies, nodding her head before waving and disappearing into the bathroom, leaving Janis to her unpacking</p>
<p>The sound of creaking pipes startles her, but she just shakes her head, going back to putting her things away. She’s never been the most organized person, but she likes to think that at least she’s gotten better about actually doing and folding her laundry like a proper adult instead of leaving it in a pile on the floor to pick from as the days go by.</p>
<p>Oh, if only college Janis could see her now.</p>
<p>She’d like to think she’s changed a lot from the pothead Sociology major she was in undergrad, but when she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror, the only thing that’s really changed is the fact that she’s decided to leave her hair the fuck alone for once in her damn life.</p>
<p>Heavy footsteps alert her to a presence at her door, and she turns to face the grinning Damian who is leaning against her door frame. “Are these your only clothes?” he asks, gesturing almost dismissively at what’s left out on her bed.</p>
<p>“I’ve got some more stuff in the dresser, but, uh, yeah. Pretty much it.” She shrugs, going back to deciding which drawer she should put her socks and underwear in.</p>
<p>Damian scoffs, “You’ve gotta be kidding me, Janis. I know we only properly met today, but as your new roommate, prospective best friend, and guide to all things Warehouse, this isn’t gonna fly.”</p>
<p>Janis throws him a confused glance as she tucks the last of her clothes away and shuts the drawer. “Prospective best friend?” she repeats.</p>
<p>“Well, Agent George seems to have buddied up with Gretchen, which means she’ll be friends with Karen by extension as well, so that leaves you with me. It’s simple math,” Damian explains as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world, which to him it might be. “Now come on.”</p>
<p>“Come on? Are we going somewhere?” Janis asks.</p>
<p>“To my room, duh,” Damian says, already walking down the hall. “I’d say we could go to the thrift shop in town right now, but it’s a little late and they close when the sun goes down like everything else in this godforsaken town.” Once in the room, he starts opening drawers and the corner wardrobe, tossing different shirts onto the bed. “Has anyone actually fashionable ever taken you shopping?”</p>
<p>Janis scrunches her nose at that, crossing her arms and squinting at the articles of clothing Damian is throwing around. “What’s wrong with my clothes?”</p>
<p>Damian barks out a laugh at that. “Oh, hun, you’ve been here less than a day and I can already tell your wardrobe consists black, black, and more black. Maybe some flannel if you’re feeling frisky.” He holds a Hawaiian shirt up to her before shaking his head and putting it back in the wardrobe. “It’s like a Hot Topic threw up on you.”</p>
<p>“So, what, are you just gonna cannibalize your fucking closet?” she questions, incredulous.</p>
<p>“Was that not obvious? Here, try this on for size. Most of these might be a little big but if you just do a French tuck, maybe-”</p>
<p>The next twenty minutes fly by with Janis in the middle of what she’d like to call Hurricane Damian. She ends up flopped on his bed, back in her college sweatshirt and gym shorts but with a new boost to her wardrobe. He’s telling her the story of his first artifact retrieval when she hears the knocking at the door.</p>
<p>“Bathroom’s free,” Regina says. She looks different with a completely bare face, red from the heat of her shower with her wet hair hanging limply where earlier it poofed in a voluminous mane.</p>
<p>“Did you save any hot water for the rest of us?” Damian asks, picking up a pen from his desk and beginning to click the end of it. “Felt like you were in there for half a century.”</p>
<p>They banter for a few moments more, Janis just watching them. Well, she doesn’t watch Damian too closely, she can tell he wears his wholeass heart on his sleeve and it’s probably gotten him hurt in the past. Regina, however, has so far proven to be rather… enigmatic.</p>
<p>To be honest, Janis doesn’t totally remember what that word means, but one of her old girlfriends had called her that and followed it up with “complex, mysterious,” so she figures it could probably apply to Regina.</p>
<p>“See you both in the morning then,” Regina says, making eye contact with Janis as she does for the first time during the entire interaction. Their gazes hold for a few moments before Janis breaks and glances at Damian, feeling like Regina is analyzing her the longer they keep their eyes locked.</p>
<p>“Sweet dreams!” Damian calls after her, tossing the pen back on his desk before swiveling in his chair to face Janis. He opens his mouth to resume his story, but pauses when Janis lets out a jaw-crackingly violent yawn. “I know Regina’s flight was early. Yours?”</p>
<p>Janis shrugs and scrubs a hand over her face. “Earlier than I care to admit. I should probably go to bed.”</p>
<p>“Well, sweet dreams to you too,” Damian says, standing up from his chair with his usual amount of flair. “Sleep well, because you’re probably gonna need it.”</p>
<p>“Why’s that?” Janis asks through another yawn, shuffling out of Damian’s room.</p>
<p>Damian cocks his head to the side and raises an eyebrow. “Well, tomorrow’s your first day as agents, and there always seems to be something artifact-y happening in the world. If you’re lucky, nothing’ll ping, but if you’re not… well, good luck and don’t die.” He gives her a sunny smile before shutting the door to his room in her face, ending the conversation.</p>
<p>Janis stares at the door for a long few minutes before shaking her head and going to get ready for the night’s end.</p>
<p>“He’s just being dramatic,” she mutters to herself after she brushes her teeth and spits into the sink. “My roommates and I used to say ‘don’t die’ all the time.”</p>
<p>She has a very bad feeling that Damian isn’t just being dramatic, but she elects to ignore that thought in favor of actually getting some sleep.</p>
<p>He said she’d be needing it.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Coffee and Omelets</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Regina has a long morning of thinking, the gang has breakfast, Norbury comes by with some presents, and the dynamic duo get their first ping.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>a bit shorter than my past chapters, tbh, but i really didn't wanna get into an artifact in this chapter and make it like 11k words. that's reserved for later chapters ;)</p>
<p>anyways enjoy, sorry it took awhile to get to you</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>When Regina opens her eyes the next morning, she’s confused when she doesn’t see her usual ceiling fan. Then, she remembers that she’s not at home-- or her last house, she figures; this is her new home. She blinks a few times to orient herself in this new space, eyes adjusting to the relative darkness of the room as she sits up and grabs her phone.</p>
<p>4:57am.</p>
<p>She wants nothing more than to flop back into the pillows and fall asleep for another four hours until breakfast, but this isn’t a holiday, and she’s not about to ruin her routine more than it already has been. With that thought, she heaves herself out of bed and sheds her pajamas, slipping into her workout gear and then surveying her room critically, wondering if she even has space to do everything she usually would.</p>
<p>It’s a little more cramped then she’s used to, but she makes it work. The pull-ups are a lost cause, though, at least until she gets her bar and can install it somewhere in her room. She just compensates by upping the amount of push ups she does, figuring it’ll be enough.</p>
<p>By the end of her workout, she’s dripping sweat and in desperate need of a shower. A quick glance at her phone tells her that she’s on her usual track now, 6:30am, but living in this new place means taking a later breakfast and getting into work later.</p>
<p>God, she hates change so much.</p>
<p>The shower she takes this morning is much quieter than the one she’d taken last night, at least concerning her mind. She sings under her breath, some Top 40s hit she heard on the radio as she drove to the Warehouse for the first time, and allows her thoughts to quiet down, just listening to the sound of the pipes creaking, the water hitting her back.</p>
<p>It’s peaceful.</p>
<p>...</p>
<p>At least, it is until someone knocks on the door and rudely pops her bubble, reminding her that she does, in fact, now live with four other people.</p>
<p>Two of which she now shares a bathroom with.</p>
<p>“Finish up in there, princess, other people gotta use the bathroom too,” Damian calls through the door, sounding pretty well rested for 7am. She initially pegged him as a night owl more than a morning person, but he continues to prove her wrong.</p>
<p>“I’ll be out in a minute, <i>my liege,</i>” she replies sarcastically. She twists the faucet and grabs her towel from the rack, squeezing the water out of her thick hair and drying her body off before putting her robe on and gathering the last of her things.</p>
<p>Damian is leaning against the wall outside of the bathroom, scrolling through something on his phone. He looks up when the door opens and raises an amused eyebrow at Regina. “Good morning, roomie.”</p>
<p>“It’d be better if you didn’t interrupt my shower,” she snarks, giving him a dry smile and lightly shoving him.</p>
<p>“You’re lucky I didn’t pound on the door when you were fifteen minutes into it.”</p>
<p>“Mmm… so <i>gracious.</i>” Regina rolls her eyes and walks back to the landing where the bedrooms are, pushing her door open and shutting it behind her. She notes, along the way, that Janis’ door is still closed. She’s probably still asleep. Seems like someone who gets ready at her own pace.</p>
<p>Standing naked in the middle of her room is not how she expects to spend her morning, but she’s just staring at her dresser with no clue what to wear. It’s a Friday, so technically it’s a work day, but what kind of work will they be doing? Damian had made it seem like they might be sent out on their first mission, but was she meant to be business formal? Casual?</p>
<p>Unsurprisingly, none of her questions are answered when she grumbles them under her breath.</p>
<p>She comes to the decision to put something more comfortable on first, at least for breakfast, and figures she can change depending on what the day’s agenda looks like… if anyone deigns to share with her what she’s going to be doing.</p>
<p>
  <i>“George’s are always prepared and perfect, Regina. To be unprepared and imperfect in a warzone is to be dead.”</i>
</p>
<p>Words her father liked to tell her whenever he picked her apart, piece by piece. It was never over a matter of life and death, and her mom always called him dramatic, but that did nothing to lessen their effect on a young Regina. They stuck, only reinforced by the biggest mistake in her military career.</p>
<p>Everything has to be perfect, or she might as well be dead.</p>
<p>It’s decidedly more casual than anything she’s worn in the past five years: a simple white tee, the front tucked into light wash jeans with a long, flowing cardigan topping the ensemble off. She does a little twirl in front of the full length mirror in the corner of the room, checking her angles like she used to do in high school.</p>
<p>When you wear the same suits every day for work, it’s a special occasion when you get to leave the house wearing something light and youthful.</p>
<p>It’s pretty quiet downstairs, only the sound of running water from Damian’s shower reaching her ears. She does her best to match the stillness and pads through the living room into the kitchen, but she’s surprised when a mug of coffee is immediately thrust into her hand, steaming and dark.</p>
<p>Karen beams at her, dressed in a simple sundress and a denim jacket, still holding out the mug. “Good morning, Regina!”</p>
<p>Standing slightly behind her, rummaging around in the fridge, is Gretchen in a denim skirt and a sweater. She glances briefly at the other two women before continuing to poke through the fridge for breakfast.</p>
<p>Regina slowly takes the coffee and tentatively sips it, blinking in surprise when she finds it… perfectly suited to her tastes: black, one sugar.</p>
<p>Her astonishment must show, because Gretchen chuckles and says, “Karen’s got a knack for knowing what people want, and what they need. And she makes great coffee to make up for the fact that she’s not allowed to help me cook.”</p>
<p>“One time-” Karen leans in to whisper to Regina, even if it’s more of a stage-whisper that Gretchen can definitely hear judging by the way she smiles fondly and rolls her eyes- “back when we were all still in our first year at the Warehouse, Damian and I tried to make breakfast because Gretch was sick, and we almost burned down the B&amp;B.”</p>
<p>So that’s the story behind <i>“just don’t burn down my kitchen,”</i> Regina thinks to herself, remembering Gretchen’s warning from the day before. She nods and takes a longer drink of her coffee, still wondering how Karen could’ve possibly figured out how she took her coffee.</p>
<p>“And that’s why they’re not allowed in the kitchen at all,” Gretchen says firmly, setting a carton of eggs on the counter next to several bowls of ingredients for what looks like omelets. “At one point, they were allowed with supervision, but even that ended in flames.”</p>
<p>Regina snorts and sets her coffee down, smiling at the way Karen has hopped up on the countertop, swinging her crossed legs like a little kid on a swing set. “Well, you’ll be pleased to know that I’m relatively capable in the kitchen. As long as there’s a recipe, at least.”</p>
<p>“My mom passed down a lot of her cookbooks to me when dad gave me the B&amp;B, so a lot of the things we eat here are from my mom’s notebooks.” Gretchen smiles to herself as she gestures to a shelf of what must be her mom’s recipes. The books vary in size and shape, some of them older and more worn while others look newer. “But I like to take what she wrote down and add my own flair.”</p>
<p>Karen nods sagely, drumming her fingers against the edge of the countertop. “Damian’s really bad at cooking because he likes things that are defined. He asked Gretch how much a pinch of salt was and just about had a heart attack when she just picked the salt up with her fingers and eyeballed it.”</p>
<p>“If anyone gives you a defined list of spices in a recipe, I don’t trust them,” Gretchen says. “You measure that stuff with your heart.”</p>
<p>“I mean, I get where he’s coming from.” Regina shrugs, crossing her arms over her chest. She only raises an eyebrow when met with Gretchen’s horrified expression, staring until the other woman shakes her head sadly and starts cracking eggs into the pan. “Is it so bad to want things enumerated and specific?”</p>
<p>“Maybe when it comes to grocery lists and sociological surveys, but not cooking.”</p>
<p>“To each their own,” Karen interjects kindly.</p>
<p>The three of them share idle conversation as Gretchen makes breakfast, and the time passes quickly with the good company. Karen makes Regina another cup of coffee before they both help set the table, just in time for Damian and Janis to finally grace the downstairs with their collective presence.</p>
<p>“Listen, I’m just saying that if this weirdo Warehouse can exist, so can aliens!” Janis exclaims as she enters the dining room and unceremoniously drops into the same seat as last night.</p>
<p>Damian rolls his eyes and sits down as well, linking his fingers together and resting his chin on them. “Janis, I already agreed with you. There’s literally a UFO fragment in the Warehouse.”</p>
<p>“Unidentified Flying Objects do not equal aliens,” Gretchen says, the tone of her voice suggesting she’s had this exact discussion more than a few times with Damian. She sets down Damian and Janis’ plates first, loaded with an omelet, bacon, sausage, and some hash browns. “It could’ve just been an unidentified aircraft from some country doing secret spy things.”</p>
<p>“Or it could’ve been aliens!” Janis points at Regina as she walks in carrying two more plates, and she stops in her tracks with an eyebrow raised, waiting for whatever is about to come out of the detective's mouth. “You! You probably had a really high security clearance! Are aliens real?”</p>
<p>Regina squints at Janis and sets down the food she’s carrying, one for her and the second for Karen who trails after Gretchen as she leaves the kitchen with the last plate. “I’m not at mercy to disclose information like that.”</p>
<p>“That means aliens are real, case closed,” Janis says firmly. She thanks Karen when she sets down a mug of steaming coffee, her eyes widening as she sips it. “What the hell?”</p>
<p>Karen just grins smugly, and the topic is dropped as they all dig into the delicious breakfast Gretchen prepared.</p>
<p>Halfway through a Damien tirade about Robespierre (Regina’s unsure how they even got on the topic of Robespierre, but she’s too afraid to ask, at this point) her ears perk up. She straightens out in her seat, because she could’ve sworn she heard gravel crunching under tires outside.</p>
<p>The front door swings open, quieting Damien’s rant as they all turn to see Norbury striding through the living room into the dining room, a leather case under one arm and a genial smile on her face. “Good morning, agents. Gretchen?”</p>
<p>Gretchen swallows the bite she’d just taken and nods toward the kitchen. “There’s a plate for you in the microwave.”</p>
<p>“Fantastic, thank you.” She points at Regina and Janis with two fingers, split in a V, before pointing at the patio outside. “Patio. Come on, let’s get you some equipment.”</p>
<p>Regina and Janis both share a confused look before standing up, the former with infinitely more grace as Janis slams her knee into the table quite loudly and swears under her breath. They both walk out onto the patio where Norbury has seated herself, the leather case resting on the surface of the table as she reclines in the chair, one leg crossed over the other and her fingers laced over her knee.</p>
<p>“So, your first day as official Warehouse agents,” Norbury says conversationally. “How does it feel?”</p>
<p>“Still not totally sure I shouldn’t be on the next flight back to Chicago,” Janis replies, dropping into the chair and drumming her fingertips on the table. She’s eyeing the case suspiciously, but switches her gaze up to Norbury.</p>
<p>Norbury hums and sits up. “I wouldn’t be so hasty, detective. You haven’t even gone on a mission yet.”</p>
<p>“Not to mention they’ll probably kill us if we even try leaving now that we know about this super secret government operation,” Regina mumbles sardonically. When she looks up and sees Norbury regarding her coolly, like that is an entirely plausible event, she clears her throat and sinks a little in her chair.</p>
<p>Janis purses her lips and stares at her hand with wide eyes before inhaling sharply and gesturing at the box. “So what’s in this thing?”</p>
<p>“Glad you asked,” Norbury says brightly, her previous demeanor forgotten as she flicks up the brass latches on the front of the case. The lid springs up and she turns it around so the two agents can look inside, both of them leaning in to peer at the contents. “Go ahead and have a look.”</p>
<p>Inside are two things: a rectangular metal box with rounded corners and a gun that looks straight out of a bad sci-fi movie that’s trying to be steampunk at the same time. Immediately, Regina grabs the gun and turns it over in her hand, if only to keep it out of the hands of the detective. She’s not sure the other woman has any sort of training with a gun, but better safe than sorry.</p>
<p>“It’s a tiny TV,” Janis observes, having picked up the metal box. She tilts it so Regina can see the inside of it, complete with a round screen, a little speaker, a red light, and a few dials and buttons that do seem reminiscent of a very old TV.</p>
<p>“And a ray gun,” Regina says. The gun itself has a rubber handle and a glass barrel with a copper coil in the center, various intricate wires tracking back to what Regina surmises must be some sort of internal power supply. At the end of the barrel is another coil of wire with four prongs surrounding it.</p>
<p>“A Farnsworth and a Tesla, respectively, both named for their inventors,” Norbury informs. She snaps the box shut and sets it down on the ground so she has an unobstructed view of her agents. “The Farnsworth has a secure connection that can’t be hacked, tapped, or traced, so it’s perfect for our little operation.” She gestures at the Tesla, then. “As for that little baby, it’s got a few charges in it, so use it sparingly. Anything above level 2 could vaporize a person, and close range is dangerous.”</p>
<p>They both stare at the Tesla and Regina turns it over to find the dial Norbury mentioned, surreptitiously turning it to the lowest it can go. It doesn’t seem like it has any sort of safety on it, and she carefully sets it down on the table. “Why can’t I just use my gun?”</p>
<p>“Well, Teslas don’t leave lasting damage, and they cause short term memory loss so people won’t remember you shooting them with it. Knocks people out for a few minutes at least, and it’s pretty instrumental in our snags,” she explains. She taps something on her own waist, and they both figure she has her own Tesla strapped to her belt. “Bullet wounds are a bit harder to explain and treat than some fried hair. Best to keep it non-lethal so nothing traces back to us.”</p>
<p>Well, Regina can concede to that point.</p>
<p>“So… we’re equipped, I guess. Is there some sort of orientation we’re supposed to go through formally before we go on our first mission?” Regina asks, still eyeing the Tesla as though it could go off at any moment, despite it just lying on the table.</p>
<p>Norbury barks out a laugh at that, startling both women to the point that Janis fumbles with and almost drops the Farnsworth that she’s still fiddling with. “Sorry, that’s just… really funny.” She scratches under her eye with her thumb before letting out a long breath. “There’s really no way to formally introduce anyone to the Warehouse. You kind of just… get thrown into the deep end and hope you don’t die.”</p>
<p>“Is there, like, a mortality rate we should be aware of?” Janis asks jokingly, nudging Regina with her elbow as she chuckles.</p>
<p>The eyebrow raise Norbury sends her way is enough to make her taper off her laughter with a cough, looking away like a scolded student.</p>
<p>“Maybe we should stop asking questions we don’t want answers to,” Regina mutters. “So if there’s no orientation, when’s our first mission?”</p>
<p>Norbury shrugs and folds her hands on the table. “Whenever something weird starts happening in the world. Nothing’s really popped up since you two arrived, but-”</p>
<p>Someone clears their throat behind the three of them, and everyone turns to see Damian standing in the doorway to the patio, holding a small device in his hands. “You really jinxed them, Norbury.” He waves the device around with a rueful smile. “We got a ping.”</p>
<p>Norbury grins widely and stands up, dusting her hands off and putting her hands on her hips as she regards her newest agents. “Guess that answers that question, Agent George. Damian, can you take them to the Warehouse? I would, but Gretchen’s cooking awaits.”</p>
<p>“Always, Norbury,” Damian says, pocketing the thing in his hands and giving Regina and Janis an amused expression. “Come on ladies. Let’s go see what’s got the Warehouse system so worked up this fine morning. Chop, chop!”</p>
<p>Janis looks a little sick, between the less than comforting response about her mortality joke and now being sent on their first mission, but Regina tries to give her as reassuring a smile as she can, grabbing the Tesla on her way as they both follow Damian through the B&amp;B and out to where his car is waiting.</p>
<p>“She was just trying to scare us about the dying part, right?” Janis asks as she slides into the passenger seat.</p>
<p>Damian just laughs.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Come All Ye Faithful</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Citizens of Washington, Georgia are going off the deep end, claiming to be seeing angels and hearing the voice of God. It’s up to Regina and Janis to get to the bottom of this sudden irregular activity.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>...hello friends</p><p>to those who are reading this as it comes out, i applaud you</p><p>to those of you in the future reading this when it's all over........ good fucking luck my outline is telling me this is gonna be 100k+ words so uh... you're welcome?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“I’m beginning to think the Warehouse is, if possible, even cheaper than the normal government.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Between being flown economy both times the Warehouse arranged their tickets, the state of the rental car they picked up from the airport, and this hotel room, Janis has to agree on that point. The lamp she turns on casts the room in yellow, only serving to make the overall experience more dingy-looking. It’s got mustardy wallpaper straight out of some decade from before they were both born; starched, white bedclothes; and a very thin carpet that’s uncomfortable to look at, let alone stand barefoot on.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wonder if Damian even checked any reviews on this place before booking,” Regina continues, setting her luggage down. She immediately unlocks the case she’d had to store her pistol and the tesla in, beginning to clean and reassemble the former as Janis watches in mild curiosity. She must notice her looking because she smirks and says, “Something wrong, Detective?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis holds her hands up and shakes her head. “Nope. Just never seen anyone doing that and putting a gun back together?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“By ‘doing that-” Regina does air quotes around the part she’s referencing- “do you mean cleaning it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a knife person, George, I don’t understand how your guns work.” She waves her hand dismissively, grinning a little.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina scoffs as she finally finishes cleaning it and clicks the last piece back into place with a cocky look before setting it on the nightstand. “A clean gun is a safe gun, Detective. That’s what we’re taught in the military.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I thought you were Secret Service.” Janis gestures at the badge still attached to her hip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, I am.” Regina shrugs off her cardigan and drops it in her suitcase before pushing the sleeve of her left arm up over her shoulder to reveal a tattoo: a globe with an eagle coming out of the top and an anchor crossing behind it; a ribbon is held in the eagle’s mouth, and when Janis leans closer to read it, Regina simply cuts in to say, “Semper Fidelis.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were a Marine?” Janis asks. It’s not unkind, the way she says it, but it’s a little disbelieving, a little tinged with humor. “I gotta say, seeing you in your pink bathrobe kinda…” She laughs and shakes her head. “You don’t look it, is what I’m getting at.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina grins dangerously and smoothes her sleeve back down. “Well, everyone who’s underestimated me in the past has </span>
  <em>
    <span>very quickly</span>
  </em>
  <span> eaten their words, so I’m sure you’ll be the same.” Her words are sharp as knives, a little venomous, and Janis knows she’s tweaked a nerve. “I mean, I wouldn’t be in this position if I wasn’t competent, Detective, and neither would you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just an observation, Agent,” Janis replies, tone cool. She turns back to her bag and retrieves an amber bottle of pills, uncapping it and pouring out half of a little green pill into her hand. Her water bottle is halfway to her lips when she feels eyes on her, and she glances at Regina and raises an eyebrow. “Now who’s staring? You look like you’ve never seen a pill before, George.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>To be truthful, Regina has seen more pills than most, but she’s not about to tell Janis that. She clears her throat and crosses her arms. “Just surprised. What is it?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s prescribed, if that’s what you’re worried about,” Janis assures, finally taking a sip of water and dropping the pill into her mouth. She swallows and caps the bottle again, dropping it next to her luggage. “And you’re awfully nosy, aren’t you. Do you normally ask people you just met about the pills they take?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina falters, glancing to the side, mostly because she knows how she would react if someone questioned the pills she took. The Xanax buried deep in whatever bag she’s travelling with, the painkillers and muscle relaxers. Her back gives a twinge, almost like it knows she doesn’t want to be revealing anything to Janis. Now that they’re in the field, she feels cautious. It’s a very different energy than being back at the B&amp;B.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t pop a vessel thinking about it, I’m kidding,” Janis finally interrupts, tossing the pill bottle between her hands. “Mood stabilizers. Heavily medicated for my safety.” She grins, and there’s an edge to it, almost daring Regina to ask any more questions as she grabs some pajamas. “And yours too, probably.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The silence turns sufficiently awkward, charged with tension, and Janis finally leaves to the bathroom to do her nightly routine and change, leaving Regina in the main room. She tries not to let it get to her, though, and changes into her own nightclothes before joining her partner at the dual sinks to brush her teeth. They hold eye contact in the mirror for a long moment before Janis spits, rinses her mouth out, and then leaves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Way to go, George,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks as she turns on her electric toothbrush. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Alienating your coworkers from day one. Bravo.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shut the fuck up,” she mumbles to herself around a mouthful of foam.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis would like to say the morning sneaks up on both of them, but evidently that isn’t the case because by 9am, Regina is up and moving around the hotel room and she seems entirely awake. She thinks she remembers waking up briefly when the sun wasn’t even out and hearing Regina making noise, but she’d quickly fallen back asleep when the door closed, and hadn’t woken back up until she was rudely shaken.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’ve let you sleep long enough,” Regina announces, holding her shoulder firmly and shaking her. “We should get moving on this sooner rather than later. Who knows what a bunch of delusional religious fanatics will do when left to their own devices.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Right, the mission,</span>
  </em>
  <span> Janis thinks, blinking blearily at Regina. When the blonde continues to shake her, as though it’ll aid in the awakening process, she smacks her hand away. “Stop fucking doing that, I’m up, Jesus. Remind me what’s- refresh me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina rolls her eyes and gets up off of the bed, and Janis takes in the fact that she’s completely dressed and done up for the day. Perfectly poised, elegant, and- oh, she’s waiting for something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Sorry, what?” Janis asks roughly, shoving the blankets off and grabbing the first tee and jeans she can get her hands on from her bag. She shuffles into the bathroom, leaving the door open so she can still hear Regina as the blonde begins to discuss the details of their mission:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“A housewife and a pastor are both reported to be experiencing religious delusions. The housewife was admitted to the psychiatric ward at Wills Memorial Hospital three days ago, and just yesterday morning the pastor, Hugo Cadwell, was claiming to be a prophet.” It sounds like she’s reading directly from the files Damian had printed out for them, but Janis wouldn’t be surprised if she’d taken the time to memorize the information and just be able to recite it at the drop of a hat.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Once she’s dressed, she emerges from the bathroom and grabs her brush to fix her bedhead. “So our job is to find whatever old antique is causing the weirdness?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Old antique is redundant,” Regina mutters under her breath, smirking a little at the way Janis’ nose scrunches. “And I think you’ll find the Warehouse calls them ‘artifacts.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t you just a perfect little teacher’s pet,” Janis replies teasingly as she tugs her boots on and ties them off. She brushes her hands over her wrists before deciding it’s definitely too hot for a jacket, and she can only hope that Regina isn’t perceptive enough to see the faintest remnants of her past marked on her skin. And if she does…</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Well, there’s a reason she’s on mood stabilizers, so Regina can extrapolate based on what she’s given.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her train of thought is broken by something hitting her in the chest and then falling into her lap, and she looks down and sees a protein bar. When she looks up, she’s being given a significant look. “What?” she asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Since you slept in, we don’t have time for you to get breakfast-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“-you got breakfast without me?!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina gives her an exasperated look. “I’ve been up since 5am, Detective. While you were sleeping I went for a run, showered, got dressed, did my hair and makeup, and had breakfast, </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> I still had time to scroll through my entire Instagram feed.” She puts one hand on her hip and gestures to the door. “Now, if you don’t mind, we should get going.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re gonna sweat your tits off in that,” Janis comments off-handedly as they make their way out of the hotel room and down to the rental car, unwrapping the protein bar along the way and eating it in just a few bites. Hopefully they’ll be able to stop for a reasonably timed break, but with the way Regina’s acting, she’s not totally sure they’re gonna have a designated lunch hour.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I grew up on a military base in Hawaii, I think I’ll survive.” Regina clicks the unlock button on the keys, jangling them as she does. The familiarity of the action almost makes Janis flinch, but she just rolls her neck and ignores the memories that try to crawl into her mind. “Besides, this might be Georgia, but I’m not just going to announce to people that I’m a Secret Service agent packing heat </span>
  <em>
    <span>and</span>
  </em>
  <span> a ray gun. That’s just not smart.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis shrugs and slides into the passenger seat, checking her back pockets for both the Farnsworth and her switchblade, and then her front pocket for her phone. “Georgia’s an open-carry state. No one’d care.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re trying not to attract attention to ourselves,” Regina reminds, the engine revving as she turns the key and pulls out of the hotel parking lot. “Just… try not to break any laws while we’re here. I doubt Norbury would be thrilled to find out one of her new agents got arrested on their first mission.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But breaking laws is the fun part of my job,” Janis teases. She reaches out to click through the radio stations, scowling when all that seems to come up is country music.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aren’t PIs supposed to adhere to the law?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I never said all of the work I did was above board.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh my god, my partner’s a felon,” Regina mumbles to herself in disbelief as she gets on the road, rubbing her temple with a sigh. “Be useful and look up directions to Wills Memorial Hospital.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Aye, aye, Captain.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s Sergeant to you, Detective.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis tries not to zone out in complete boredom as she sits in the plastic chair in the waiting room, head lolling from side to side as she watches Regina exchange heated words with the woman behind the front desk. She scratches at the splitting cover of the seat between her legs to pass the time, idly wishing she had her sketchpad and a pencil. If she was braver-- and didn’t fear the wrath of Special Agent Regina George-- she’d probably cause a little chaos and doodle on the whiteboard at the nurse’s station.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Finally, after what feels like an eon and a half, Regina turns and stalks over to where she’s sitting. She looks up into the blonde’s irritated face and can only grin at her scowl. “Frowning like that is gonna give you wrinkles in your perfect face, princess.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think I liked you better when I was beating you at Monopoly,” Regina replies smartly, crossing her arms as she sits down in the seat beside Janis. “And I think I liked it better when people did what I asked. I mean, how hard is it to just let us in to question her? We have to get her doctor to supervise, and-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regina,” Janis interrupts. She waits for Regina to turn and look at her, her frown smoothing a little bit. “This woman literally just experienced a mental break because she started hearing the voices of God and His angels. Have a little sympathy?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m trying to do my job,” Regina defends. “That’s what we’re here to do. Find the artifact.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis exhales heavily and rubs her thumb in a circle over her eyebrow before pulling it away to look Regina in the eyes. “This thing could’ve existed for hundreds of years, I’m sure it can wait a few more hours to be found, don’t you?” She holds her hand up to Regina when it looks like she’s gonna try to defend herself again. “All I’m saying is to be gentle with these people. They aren’t domestic terrorists like you’re used to, I’m sure. They’re real people.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>That reminder makes Regina deflate a little, and she sighs heavily as she sinks lower in her seat. “Fine. You’re right.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I know I am.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They sit for a few minutes, not talking, but then someone clears their throat and says, “Agent George?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina’s head snaps up and she’s immediately on her feet, striding over to the blonde woman in a lab coat. She holds her hand out to shake as Janis walks up as well. “Yes, that’s me. You must be Dr. Parker.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Janis Sarkisian,” Janis greets, taking the offered hand and giving it a firm shake. “Agent George’s… partner.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nice to meet you both. I was told you were looking to question one of my patients?” Dr. Parker asks, beginning to lead them down a long hallway. Janis tries to keep track of the doors they pass, the corners they turn, but eventually she blinks and it feels like they’re somewhere else, so she lets it go.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, Anne Whittaker,” Regina confirms. “We’re trying to find out what happened to make her… have these hallucinations she was admitted for.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dr. Parker looks a little skeptical, then glances at the two of them. “What does the President want with one woman suffering from a bout of psychosis?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina almost stalls in her tracks, and Janis has the equivalent of a buffering circle going in her brain. This is not a question either anticipated, both so narrowly focused on getting the artifact and getting out. Norbury and Damian had </span>
  <em>
    <span>not</span>
  </em>
  <span> prepared them for having to defend their odd courses of action.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’re not exactly at liberty to disclose that information, just know that Ms. Whittaker could be a crucial part of our investigation,” Regina evades, and Janis hopes that Dr. Parker won’t pry any further.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What are we gonna fucking say, anyways? We have reason to believe Ms. Whittaker has been affected by something-- no we don’t know what, but it’s probably bigger than a breadbox-- like, maybe an evil opium pipe, and that’s what’s making her think she’s hearing the angels talking to her?</span>
  </em>
  <span> Janis thinks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Yeah, that’ll go over well.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dr. Parker gives a short hum that tells both of them she’s suspicious, but Janis just clears her throat and tries not to look like her and Regina are completely lying through their teeth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s at that point that they arrive at the psych ward, the three of them pushing through the double doors. The common area is relatively empty, and Dr. Parker informs them that it’s apparently quiet time for the patients and that Ms. Whittaker is probably in her bed. She also says, “Be… gentle with Anne. She’s still recovering.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They enter a room with two beds. On the one nearest to them is a teenage girl, red haired with an abundance of freckles, wearing a hoodie with no strings and sweatpants. She barely turns to address the three, though Janis feels slightly disconcerted by her presence as they walk over to the second bed.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anne Whittaker is a pretty woman, probably in her fifties. Her hair is a rich, chestnut brown and she has blue eyes. She’s staring at the wall opposite her bed, but unlike the girl, she turns her head to look at them as they approach.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis tries not to think about how the woman hasn’t fucking </span>
  <em>
    <span>blinked</span>
  </em>
  <span> since they entered, filing it away for creepy and possibly artifact related.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anne?” Dr. Parker says conversationally. “These nice people are here to ask you a few questions, can you talk to them?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina doesn’t wait for a confirmation, stepping closer and smiling as kindly as she can as she pulls her phone out to record her notes. “Hello, Ms. Whittaker,” she says. “My name is Regina, and this is my partner Janis. We just wanted to ask you some questions about the past few days. Can you tell us when you first started hearing the voices you were admitted for?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God has been with me my whole life,” Anne says a little dreamily. “Guiding me. He’s just finally taken a more hands on role in my life.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you’re hearing the voice of God?” Regina asks, glancing at Janis out of the corner of her eye. “When did that start, then?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anne nods seriously, sitting up a little straighter. “I saw Him, y’know,” she whispers, almost like she doesn’t want Dr. Parker or her roommate to hear. “He was standing right beside my husband as he worked, just five days ago. He was guiding Lincoln’s hands as he worked.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Did you attend church this past Sunday, Ms. Whittaker?” Regina questions. She looks more than a little concerned about the way Anne is talking to them, dodging the exact answers to the questions, and a bad feeling begins to itch at the base of Janis’ spine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I attend church every Sunday,” Anne replies.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And you haven’t gotten any strange items? Inherited anything?” Janis butts in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Anne opens her mouth to respond, but her head tilts to the side and her mouth drops open for a moment. Her eyes remain staring, unblinking, at Regina before she gives a nod and relaxes back into the pillow. It’s almost like she’s staring through Regina, and the bad feeling intensifies as she says, “You are not welcome in His kingdom.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>There’s silence in the room, and Anne turns onto her side to face the wall, leaving a dumbfounded Regina and confused Janis. Dr. Parker gives them a significant look and leads them back outside into the common area. “Sorry about that. She’s been… irritable. Best to let her rest.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Right,” Janis says, drawing out the vowel in her disbelief. Regina still looks a little stunned by the solemn declaration and eerie stare, so Janis decides to take over the questioning a bit. “Dr. Parker, can you tell us anything more about Ms. Whittaker? You don’t have to give us any sensitive medical information, but… has she done anything weird or received anything out of the ordinary?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Apart from saying she can hear God and the angels?” Dr. Parker replies. “No, I can’t say. Anne’s always been devout in her faith-- that’s all she really has, her husband and her faith-- but it’s never been this… severe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So you know Ms. Whittaker personally?” Janis extrapolates. She rests a hand gently on Regina’s lower back, trying to ground her back in reality, because she still looks a little lost. It certainly seems to startle the blonde, but Janis ignores that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Dr. Parker shrugs and clasps her hands in front of her. “We go to church together, so we know of one another. We’ve shared a few conversations.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well,” Regina finally says, shaking off whatever stupor she fell into. “I think the next course of action is questioning her husband. Maybe he’ll know something. Would you happen to know where Mr. Whittaker is, Dr. Parker?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Lincoln has tea with Mr. Reid Driver every Saturday. Here, let me-” She pulls out a pad of paper and scribbles an address for them, ripping the page out and handing it to Regina- “He always mentions what he and Mr. Driver discussed the next day at church,” Dr. Parker says. She checks her watch and blows out a breath, shaking her head. “I’m sorry, but I must be going. I have a patient. You can see yourselves out, yes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We’ll figure it out. Thank you, Dr. Parker,” Janis says before pushing Regina gently, letting her hand fall away, and beginning to walk out of the psych ward with the blonde in tow. They’re both quiet until they’re out of the hospital and back in their rental car, the AC blasting as they ruminate on what just happened. “You okay, George?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina glances at Janis and then back at the steering wheel, flexing her fingers over the worn leather. “It’s a little startling to hear someone tell you you aren’t welcome in Heaven. Someone who is </span>
  <em>
    <span>literally</span>
  </em>
  <span> hearing the voice of God.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Is it really the voice of God, or is it just the artifact,” Janis corrects. “Even if there wasn’t an artifact involved, I’d be skeptical. I don’t trust anyone who says that God is in their ear.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not religious, Detective?” Regina teases lightly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis scoffs and shakes her head, “Not in the slightest. Strong atheist over here, because if God were real, then a lot of the shit in my life shouldn’t have happened.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina looks up to hold her gaze for a long few seconds before sighing and switching her view to out the windshield. It looks like she wants to ask something, but then she seems to think better of it and instead says, “I’ve always believed in God and Heaven. Maybe not all of the other stuff, but I like to think someone is watching over us… that maybe there’s something to life after death.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s hopeful,” Janis says. She reaches across the console to snatch the piece of paper out of Regina’s hand, ready to start putting it into her GPS, but is stopped by Regina when she says:</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe we should split up.” Her eyes dart around the interior of the car before she reaches back to grab the file of printouts Damian gave them, a slight grimace on her face as she twists. “If we want to cover more ground faster, of course. We still have to visit the… Pastor Cadwell, the prophet. And now we’ve got Mr. Whittaker and this Mr. Reid Driver person Dr. Parker mentioned.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis blinks a few times, shrugging. “I mean, I guess we could. Might be better if I handle the Pastor anyways.” She snickers to herself when Regina gives her a sharp look. “Don’t look at me like that, George! You were the one getting pissy because we had to have Parker supervise our interview. Let me work some magic on the prophet while you have tea with the men.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wasn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>pissy</span>
  </em>
  <span>, I was irritated!” Regina defends.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You were a little pissy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So help me God, I will make you walk to the church in this heat.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis holds her hands up in a placating gesture and mutters out a few platitudes. “Fine, fine. You can drop me off at the church and then get along from there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina nods, their spat seemingly resolved as she puts the key in the ignition and turns it. She thinks that’s it and they’ll just drive listening to whatever country music station Janis settles on when-</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And maybe don’t take the Lord’s name in vain, it might offend some of the-”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina delivers a swift punch to her shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reid Driver turns out to be only a few blocks down from both City Hall and the church that Pastor Cadwell works at. Conveniently placed in the middle of these two places in a large, historic home that reminds Regina of her history books. She wonders idly, as she walks up to the door, if Mr. Driver inherited the home from a long dead relative, or if he simply bought it with whatever money he has.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The door opens only a few moments after she knocks, revealing a well dressed man with a thick, dark bard and thinning hair on top. He’s smiling kindly at her, but gives her a quick onceover, confusion showing in his brown eyes. “Hello, ma’am. Can I help you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina moves her blazer to the side to show off her badge, giving him a smile of her own. “Special Agent Regina George, Secret Service. I have a few questions for a Mr. Lincoln Whittaker about his wife, and I was told I could find him here with you. May I come in?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of- of course, ma’am,” Mr. Driver says, stepping out of the doorway. He gestures her in before leading her through the house to a sitting room where another dark haired man is sat, this one clean shaven with deep wrinkles and slightly drooping cheeks. “Lincoln, a Secret Service agent is here for you.” He turns to Regina and clasps his hands. “Would you like some tea, Agent George?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t mind a cup, thank you,” Regina replies smoothly. Her throat’s a little dry from talking. She purses her lips as Reid sits down across from Lincoln and pours her a cup from the white china teapot, the centerpiece of the table.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lincoln clears his throat and readjusts his own blazer, obviously trying for a nonplussed smile, though it falls short. “So, uh, Agent George, was it? What do you- what do you need from me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, sir.” She seats herself primly beside Lincoln, angling so she can see both him and Mr. Driver. “I’m heading an investigation concerning your wife, about the… experiences she’s been having over the past couple of days.” The house is, thankfully, air conditioned so when Regina takes a sip from the tea she’s delighted to find it doesn’t further overheat her, and instead warms her comfortably. “We’ve already spoken to her, but can you tell me when Anne started exhibiting… strange behaviors?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lincoln nods and takes a sip from his own cup before setting it back on its little saucer. “A few days ago we were discussing some of my work with the city. Reid and I are both councilmen, and we’ve been trying to push for some change in our community. She told me that God was on my side, helping me work.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And that was out of the ordinary?” Regina asks.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He nods seriously. “Anne comes from a very religious family, and she herself is very… committed to her faith. She sees God in almost everything, but I could tell that this was different. She started telling me she was seeing angels, having visions of Heaven.” His fingers drum against his knee and he looks a little stricken. “I brought her to Wills, and they called it psychosis. But you already know that, I’m sure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina bobs her head up and down, quiet as she gets her thoughts in order. “Have either of you experienced anything strange recently?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Lincoln and Reid both shake their heads, though there’s some hesitation to the former man. He takes a longer drink from his tea and then pours himself another cup from the pot, shifting his jaw from side to side. Regina’s eyes trace over his face down to his neck where she can practically see his pulse spiking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chooses not to comment on it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“One last thing before I leave you both to your Saturday afternoon,” Regina says, finishing the last of her tea and setting it down. “Do either of you know Pastor Cadwell? The man who’s been calling himself a prophet as of late?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Most people know Pastor Cadwell in this area. He presides over the nearby church. I don’t know him personally, but Reid…” Lincoln trails off and waves a hand toward Reid to indicate passing the conversation off to him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reid nods and steeples his fingers, leaning forward in his chair. “Hugo Cadwell and I grew up together, here in Washington. We went to the same church, the one he now presides over, and hung out every Sunday afterwards. We’d play games and run around. Be children.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What about in the present day?” Regina questions, leaning forward as well. “Are you still friends?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not… not quite, no,” Reid replies wistfully. He pops the joint in his thumb as he glances away, and then back at Regina. “When I was younger, my parents died in a car crash. It was a freak accident, and when that happened, my relationship with religion became… complicated.” He points around the room, and Regina can see nails in the wall where crosses must once have been mounted. “Hugo told me it was all God’s plan, and I got angry at him. We fell out of touch after.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Why the hesitation then?” she asks, narrowing her eyes further. “Why not just say you aren’t friends?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Reid shrugs and gives a weak smile. “Because I’ve been trying to reconnect with him recently. Invited him over for tea with Lincoln last Saturday, and he showed up, but it’s still… awkward.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina leans back on the couch, biting her cheek and furrowing her brow as she thinks. This mission is like a puzzle, and she’s slowly gathering up the pieces, but it feels like none of them fit together quite yet. They have the connection of the church between Anne and Pastor Cadwell, but if it was the church then surely more people would be experiencing delusions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She’s just about to stand up and take her leave when a window to their left shatters and a brick lands hard on the wood floor, followed by incoherent shouting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What the-” Lincoln says, but Regina’s already out of her seat and drawing her gun, holding a hand out to tell them to stay put. She stalks up to the side of the window, wary of any more bricks being tossed through, and peeks around the lip.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis scrubs her hands over her face and groans in annoyance. “Damian, you gotta give me </span>
  <em>
    <span>something.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> She looks down at the Farnsworth open in her lap, the black and white image of Damian’s face reflecting back at her on the round screen.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“It could be literally anything, Janis,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Damian says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“There have been several prophets throughout history, or it might just be the artifact of a hyper-religious person who also experienced schizophrenia or psychosis. Or it could be-”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what you’re telling me is you still don’t know what we’re looking for,” Janis interrupts, rubbing her temple.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Some artifact hunts take days, Janis. This is your first one, try not to get too beat down.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Damian gives her a concerned look through the screen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“How’s Regina doing? And you, how’s the heat. I saw the weather and it looks fucked.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis rolls her eyes and squints in the sun's general direction, glaring as best she can. “The weather is fucked, can confirm. Humid and hot, just what I hate.” She looks further down the street where Regina had driven away just minutes before. “And I don’t know how Regina is. We split up to interview people. I’m about to talk to the Pastor and she’s questioning Anne Whittaker’s husband and some dude named Reid Driver.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“You split up?!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Damian squawks. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Why would you do that? Janis, she’s the one with the tesla, what happens if someone turns violent and she’s not there?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t know?!” Janis replies testily. “She seemed a little freaked after the Whittaker lady told her- oh- ‘you don’t belong in His kingdom.” She clicks her tongue a few times, shaking her head. “It’s whatever, dude, we’re used to working solo anyways. I wasn’t gonna argue, and this way we’re covering twice as much ground.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian gets really close to the Farnsworth, then, so his eye is the only thing on Janis’ screen. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“And what happens if you get hurt?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“She’s down the damn street!” Sure, she can’t see the car from where she’s sat on the church steps, but Regina had said it was, like, a five minute walk to get from Driver’s place to the church and she was basically in screaming distance if she hollered loud enough. “I’ll just yell and then she’ll know I’m in trouble.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Just…”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Damian sighs and covers his face before his hands fly down to the desk. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Don’t do anything stupid! Or… stupider than splitting up. And be careful with the Pastor, we don’t know if the artifact gets worse the longer it affects you.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Fine, later dude,” Janis grumbles, closing the Farnsworth with a grunt. She looks out at the street for a few seconds before groaning again and levering herself off of the steps of the church so she can go inside and see this infamous Pastor Cadwell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The interior of the church is rather plain, crosses stuck up every few feet on the wall with dark wood pews and a carpet running down the aisle. Janis hasn’t been in a church since the last time she went to a funeral, which was when she was seventeen. She shakes her head and goes to the front pew, sitting down to wait and see if Cadwell would just show up or if she’d have to go looking for him.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Turns out, the former works.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ah,” a slightly elderly voice says, drawing her eyes to a man walking into the main hall through an archway. “Hello?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pastor Cadwell is an older man with thinning, salt and pepper hair and deep wrinkles in his face. If Janis didn’t know any better, she might feel safe around him, but as it stands she never really trusts religious types, especially ones who are claiming to be prophets sent by God.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>What’s worse, a pedophile or a false prophet? </span>
  </em>
  <span>Janis thinks, standing up from the pew to shake Pastor Cadwell’s hand. “Detective Janis Sarkisian. I assume you’re Pastor Cadwell?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes, that is I,” Cadwell replies, shaking her hand. He’s bony with sagging skin, and Janis thinks he looks a lot older than his file said he was. “What brings you to my church, Detective? Do you require guidance from the Lord? Counsel?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No and no.” Janis rocks on her feet a bit before stilling herself, hooking her thumb into the belt loop of her jeans. “I stopped looking for answers in religion when I was seventeen. What I’m here for is a little different, because I wanna talk to you </span>
  <em>
    <span>about</span>
  </em>
  <span> you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Cadwell blinks and shrinks away a bit, eyes flicking from side to side before looking back into Janis’ stoic eyes. “The police already questioned me about stopping the traffic outside of city hall. I said I wouldn’t do it again.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis’ eyes narrow and she tilts her head, giving him a strange look. “That’s not… Okay, I’m also not here for that.” She takes a step closer, slow and confident with a slight bounce. “I want to talk about those voices you’re hearing, Pastor. Can you tell me when they started?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The voices?” Cadwell says, sounding confused. He fiddles with the skin around his fingernails, nerves showing in every ounce of his posture and manner.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yeah, you know, the ones in your head.” Janis taps her temple. “The ones that say they’re God, or one of the angels. Michael, Gabriel, Raphael, any of those ringing a bell, Pastor?” She wants to scoff in his face, but she refrains, because just earlier she’d told Regina to not be aggressive with these victims. Her throat bobs as she clears it and swallows, and she steps back. “You claimed you were a prophet yesterday morning. So, tell me about the voices.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“God </span>
  <em>
    <span>is</span>
  </em>
  <span> speaking to me. He wants to speak </span>
  <em>
    <span>through</span>
  </em>
  <span> me.” Cadwell takes a step forward, shoulders tensed, and the bad vibe that courses through Janis makes her take an immediate two steps back. “I am his chosen voice. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Me.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” The conviction in his voice is almost sinister, and she suddenly realizes that maybe Damian had a point in making a fuss about splitting up and being careful.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis knows that her next words have to be chosen carefully if she doesn’t want this to blow up in her face, and she internally berates herself for coming off aggressive. Religion just makes her tense and irritable, and there’s a very good reason why she stays away from it. She opens her mouth to try and de-escalate when Cadwell’s eyes glaze over, head tilting almost like he’s listening to something.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Bad vibe,</span>
  </em>
  <span> her brain screams, her body almost stumbling back at the dread the fills her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Pastor Cadwell runs fast for a man who looks to be in his sixties, and Janis regrets every missed opportunity for cardio she’s ever had as she sprints out of the church after the man. People jump out of the way of the Pastor, and then her as she bolts past. The head start he got makes it just difficult enough to catch up, and Janis’ stomach drops when she can see Cadwell lifting something up before chucking it through the window of a large, stately home.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s only the fact that Cadwell stops to stare at what he’s done that allows Janis to run up and grab his arms, restraining them behind his back before pushing him to the ground on his knees. She looks up into the window with wild eyes and is surprised to lock gazes with familiar blue ones, blinking at her in shock.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Hey partner!” Janis calls, sending a crooked grin to Regina who’s still just watching her from the window. “You wouldn’t happen to own a pair of handcuffs, would you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina shakes her head as she pulls her phone away from her ear, sitting down at the little desk in the corner of the hotel room. “Reid has decided not to press charges against Pastor Cadwell.” She pauses for Janis’ emphatic groan of annoyance and rolls her eyes. “And it seems like Cadwell is assuming responsibility for his actions and has offered to pay for the window anyways.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And we still don’t have the artifact,” Janis reminds. “And you said you think Mr. Whittaker lied about not experiencing the voices?” The answering nod makes her groan again. “The only thing linking these people together is the church. Anne attends every Sunday with Lincoln, and obviously Cadwell is the dude running the whole thing. Does he have the artifact?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If Cadwell had the artifact and the linking point was the church, I feel like more people would be coming out about hearing voices.” Regina spins in the chair before planting her hands on the desk and cracking her neck. A headache has begun to pulse behind her eyes, and it’s been growing stronger since they left Reid’s place.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis grumbles something about how “I wouldn’t tell people I was hearing voices, then I’d end up in a psych ward like fucking Whittaker.” From her position on her bed, she glances at Regina and sees the pained look on her face. “You doing okay, George? Look a little pale.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Probably just the heat getting to me,” Regina mumbles, going to the hotel fridge to get a bottle of water. “Dehydrated.” She takes a few long drinks and realizes she hadn’t had anything since sharing tea with Reid and Lincoln, and in the same thought vein she thinks Janis is probably thirsty too so she tosses one to her as well. “Drink. I haven’t seen you drink anything all day and it’s still boiling outside.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The water doesn’t help, and Regina leans against the wall and starts to slide down it when she starts seeing white spots in her vision. She hears Janis say something, but it’s muffled by a stronger, smoother voice. Feminine.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Back again, Regina George?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her eyes snap open and she gasps as her lungs constrict, her entire body breaking out into a sweat as she slides further down the wall. She stares, wide eyed, at the woman casually lounging on her bed. There’s no clear face, just flickers of features that shift every second, hair that grows and shortens as time ticks by. She’s carelessly careful in the way she’s positioned, one leg crossed over the other.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, no, no, no,” Regina mumbles to herself, her nails scratching over the wall and the carpet, trying to find a surface to grip, to ground herself, but it’s like everything has been replaced with clouds.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“I wasn’t expecting you so soon after Afghanistan,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>the woman says, voice warbling and catching on certain vowels. She gracefully gets off of the bed and leans down to Regina, head tilting slowly to the side. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Are you ready, now?”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Firm hands grab her shoulders, squeezing hard, and it feels like the air has been sucked from her lungs as God Herself grips her. She struggles against it, choking out hoarse “no”s as she tries to free herself. “Not ready, not ready,” she gasps, but her chest refuses to expand. Her hands tremble violently as she tries to grab God’s wrists, to pry Her hands off of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Regina,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>God says. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Come on, Regina.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She squeezes her eyes shut, tears leaking out. Her legs kick out, but it feels like something heavy is on them, and the scream trying to escape her is forced down by a choking sob.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regina?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regina!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When her eyes open, God is gone, and the hands gripping her shoulders are attached to Janis Sarkisian. Her heart pounds in her ribcage as she stares into Janis’ worried eyes, sees the creases of concern lining her face. She lets out a stuttered breath, blinking to make sure she’s not hallucinating again, and she loosens her iron grip on Janis’ wrists as she starts to calm down.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Can you hear me?” Janis asks. It’s then that Regina notices that she’s not just gripping her shoulders, she’s squeezing them. A consistent pattern for her to focus on, to come back. “Regina, you’re scaring me, can you hear me?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes,” Regina gasps out, her body trembling violently. When she tries to move her legs, she still finds them pinned, and that’s when she realizes Janis is literally sitting on her thighs, and her calves and feet are starting to tingle and go numb. “Can you-” she croaks- “get off?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis looks at their very intimate position and scrambles out of her lap, holding out a hand for her to grab. She does so thankfully, stumbling a bit, only to be caught by the brunette who says, “Woah, take it easy. Sit down on the bed.” Once Regina’s settled, Janis supporting her back as she continues to shiver, she asks, “What happened there?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I think-” she takes in a heaving breath, still struggling even as her panic dies down- “I’ve been compromised.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“The artifact,” Janis mumbles, looking away. She reaches into her back pocket and produces the Farnsworth, flipping it open and turning the dial to Damian’s frequency. Regina leans away slightly, dabbing at her undereyes with a tissue Janis passed her. She doesn’t need anyone else seeing her so frazzled.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“No, I still don’t know what you’re looking for,” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Damian says upon answering the call.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Regina made contact with the artifact and now she’s hallucinating,” Janis responds, giving Damian a hard look. “So we have to find this thing sooner rather than later.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Damian looses a heavy sigh and leans back in the desk chair. He grabs a thick book from off of the table and starts to thumb through it before pinching the bridge of his nose. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’ve been researching all day and there’s too many things it could be. Something belonging to Jesus himself, or Muhammad. Mary and Joseph. Religious artifacts are too difficult to pinpoint because they’re from such a vast source material.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Well, find something!” Janis snaps, startling both Regina and Damian. They both look at her as she rubs her eyes. “Fuck, sorry. I just- I don’t want anyone to get hurt, and since the Mad Lad Cad is going free after breaking Driver’s window, it’s entirely possible.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“The only way we’re going to find this thing is if you retrace your steps. Where has Regina gone that you haven’t, Janis?” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Damian prompts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina straightens and clears her throat. “Driver’s house.” She tilts the Farnsworth so Damian can see her, ignoring the surprise that shows when he sees how disheveled she is. “Reid Driver, I went to his house today without Janis to question Lincoln Whittaker, and Reid said that he’d recently had Pastor Cadwell over to reconcile their falling out.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But what about Anne?” Janis asks, holding the Farnsworth out further so they’re both in frame.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anne must’ve gone with Lincoln to his weekly Saturday tea with Reid,” Regina says excitedly. She sniffles and gets off of the bed, her still shaky legs struggling under her as she grabs her sidearm, badge, and the tesla again. “It has to be Reid, he’s the connecting factor.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>“Be safe you two, especially Regina!” </span>
  </em>
  <span>Damian warns. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Can’t lose such a prospectively good agent on her first day.”</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina grins at that as Janis salutes Damian and closes the Farnsworth. She’s about to grab the car keys when they’re snatched off of the nightstand, and she pouts at Janis when she dangles them above her head so Regina can’t reach them. “Give me the keys, Janis.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not happening, princess,” Janis says firmly, curling her fingers around them. “You’ve been affected by the artifact. It’d be stupid to let you drive.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They hold an intense staring match for almost a minute before Regina finally looks away and grumbles out, “Fine. Let’s go.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis grins in triumph, twirls the keys, and then they’re both out the door.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The front door of the Driver residence is ajar when they walk up the steps, and Regina puts a hand out to stop Janis. They share a look before Regina reaches and pulls the tesla out for the first time, turning the dial to two and watching as blue energy fills the glass barrel, arcing and shifting.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How come you get </span>
  <em>
    <span>two</span>
  </em>
  <span> guns,” Janis hisses. “And I got stuck holding the goo tank?” She gestures to the large, metal canister hanging at her hip, the red button on top bright against the sleek grey.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Because I’m the one who’s trained to use them, now be quiet,” Regina replies, raising the tesla before using her shoulder to open the door quietly, pointing her weapon down the entry hall. The lights are all off except the one in the sitting room, and her sensitive ears pick up the sounds of a struggle.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Behind her, Janis flicks out her switchblade.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina counts down from three on her fingers before turning the corner into the sitting room, announcing, “Secret Service, hands where I can see them.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>In the center of the sitting room, Pastor Cadwell is holding Reid by the forehead, tilting his head back, as he presses a piece of glass against his throat. His eyes are glazed over when they shine in the light, milky white, and he says, “God had plans for you, Reid.” He presses the glass harder. “You were supposed to be in that car with your parents, but you stayed home.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pastor Cadwell, step away from him and put. The glass. Down,” Regina says firmly, ignoring the slew of confusing whispers that burst into her head as Cadwell speaks. She shakes it off and reaffirms her stance, the tesla still poised to fire. “I don’t have a shot, Janis.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t do this, Hugo,” Reid says. He inhales sharply when the glass digs in, drawing a thin line of blood that begins to drip down his throat. “Hugo, </span>
  <em>
    <span>please.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This is God’s will,” Hugo hisses.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“No, it’s not!” Regina tilts her head to the side and grits her teeth, trying to stave off the tickling behind her eyes as she sees the visage of God once more. “The Fifth Commandment,” she says, at the same time as Her. “Thou shalt not murder.” Her hands begin to tremble the longer she flicks her eyes between Cadwell and God. “Thou shalt not murder, so let him go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s like the words cause a switch in Cadwell, and his eyes clear. He drops the shard and collapses back onto the floor as Reid grips his neck and balances himself on the back of an armchair. Regina moves around the room to stand over Cadwell, the tesla still primed and ready. “I wouldn’t move if I were you, Pastor. Janis?” She glances over her shoulder, and that’s when she sees the white china teapot that had served her, Reid, and Lincoln that afternoon. “It’s the teapot. Neutralize the teapot,” she says firmly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis sets the canister down and presses the red button to disengage the lock, pulling the cap off and setting it down. Inside, the tank is about half full of the purple neutralizer goo that Damian had given them before sending them off to Georgia in the first place. She notices Reid staring at her in confusion and just offers a strained smile and says, “Sorry, dude. Gonna have to confiscate your teapot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The teapot is submerged in a shower of sparks, and Janis has to look away so she isn’t blinded by the bright flash as she lets it sink into the goo. When the brightness fades, she peeks back in, and then looks up at Regina who blinks and shakes her head, looking around the room and not finding any sign of God.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We did it,” Regina says quietly, smiling.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s because we’re kind of the shit,” Janis replies. She caps the tank of neutralizer and pats Reid on the back-- “you should probably call an ambulance for your neck… and maybe the cops"-- before holding a fist out to Regina. “Fist bump?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina laughs and lightly bumps her fist against Janis’.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Maybe being partners won’t be so bad after all.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <strong>***</strong>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Of all of the artifacts-- </span>
  <em>
    <span>all of the ones it could’ve been</span>
  </em>
  <span>-- a teapot?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis and Regina shrug as Damian reaches his purple gloved hands into the neutralizer and removes the teapot. He turns it over in his hand, inspecting it, the women watching as the goo stuck to it almost evaporates off due to the contact with the artifact.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The three of them are in the Ovoid Quarantine, the sealed section of the Warehouse where new artifacts are stored until they find homes on the shelves. Purple neutralizer lights are strung overhead in the tent-like quarantine space, keeping everything inside dormant. They’re all wearing gloves and these steampunk-y looking glasses with purple lenses that supposedly protect their eyes from any artifact related sparking.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Maybe Muhammad really liked tea, I don’t know,” Janis says, shrugging. “You’re the one who was scouring the Bible for hours yesterday. Shouldn’t you know what this is?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bertrand Russell’s Teapot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They all turn to see Gretchen entering the Quarantine, gloves and goggles on as she walks over. She says a small “may I?” and accepts the teapot from Damian, inspecting the angles. “There’s an analogy that exists, coined by philosopher Bertrand Russell: if Russell were to assert, without offering proof, that a teapot-- too small to be seen by telescopes-- orbits the Sun somewhere in space between the Earth and Mars, he could not expect anyone to believe him solely because his assertion could not be proven wrong.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What does that have to do with having vivid hallucinations of God?” Regina questions.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gretchen gently sets the teapot down on a shelf before looking back at them. “Well, Russell applied that analogy to religion. He basically said that religion is stupid because you can’t say something exists, but you can’t see it or quantify it, and expect people to just… believe it exists. Things that can’t be disproved are intolerable presumptions, in his mind. He thought religious people were crackpots.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So when hatred for crackpots and teapots combine,” Janis jokes. “Maybe next time there’s a religion based artifact we </span>
  <em>
    <span>also</span>
  </em>
  <span> look into philosophy.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I’m a historian, not a philosopher.” Damian crosses his arms and rolls his eyes. “And clearly we have Gretchen here on deck for philosophy, so direct future complaints to her when she can’t find an artifact for you.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Regina smirks and leans toward Damian, cheeky. “We didn’t even need you, really. Clearly we did pretty well for ourselves. Figured out and neutralized the artifact without your help.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You take that back, I am an </span>
  <em>
    <span>invaluable</span>
  </em>
  <span> and </span>
  <em>
    <span>fabulous</span>
  </em>
  <span> asset to this organization!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gretchen yells after them not to run in the aisles as Regina darts out of the Quarantine, eyes alight with laughter as Damian chases her. When it seems her warning falls on deaf ears, she just sighs and gives Janis a deadpan look. “We should get up to the office, just in case their energy sets anything off.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Janis shrugs, a wide grin on her face as she hears a shriek somewhere deeper in the Warehouse that could easily be Regina or Damian. They both step out of the tent and zip it up behind them, depositing their gloves and goggles before looking further down the aisle where Regina and Damian hadn’t made it very far, and Janis bursts out into uncontrollable cackles when she sees that both of them had been doused in purple neutralizer, standing in horror as they glare at one another. “I think Norbury has it handled.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Damian Hubbard, this is designer!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“If we hurry we don’t have to share a car with them back to the B&amp;B,” Gretchen whispers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Her and Janis decide the rules can be a little broken, sprinting back to the office, leaving behind their purple stained coworkers to wrestle in the puddle of goo.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Bloodthirsty</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Regina and Janis have a mishap with an artifact in France and a warning on their records from Norbury. When bodies are turning up in Alpine sucked of their blood, the two are sent in to get to the bottom of it while Damian swoons in the background.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>i'm alive</p><p>so i had this whole outline for chapter 7 and then i realized that it was starting to get a little teensy bit long so i decided i'd chop the chapter in half where i figured a natural endpoint was and then continue on into chapter 8 with this particular artifact</p><p>hope you're excited to see a familiar face ;)</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Paris, France.</p><p> </p><p>People always talk about how beautiful the city is. It’s the City of Light, or the City of Love. Everyone and their mother wants to get proposed to under the Eiffel Tower at sunset with the romantic works, but to be honest? Janis would like to be anywhere but Paris, France in this exact moment, stuck in a cramped air vent above a museum exhibit that she is actively in the process of stealing from.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Progress report?” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere else in the museum, Regina is slinking around in the shadows, keeping track of the guards and their rotations. She ducks from alcove to column, avoiding the sweeping gaze of the security cameras as she trails a pair of security through the corridors. It’s her plan they’re following, and the further they get into it, the more Janis is regretting agreeing to be the one retrieving the blade.</p><p> </p><p>Janis grumbles some choice words under her breath as she unscrews the vent and pulls it back into the ducts, setting it behind her as she checks her harness and the wires. “Vent is unscrewed. Dropping in now.”</p><p> </p><p>There’s no response, but in the midst of a very important heist, Janis doesn’t really expect one.</p><p> </p><p>It’s unfortunate that the only way Janis is able to get into the room from the vent system is by lowering upside down, but there’s absolutely no room to turn and go in feet first with the width of the vents being as they are. She can feel nervous sweat building on her forehead as she descends into the exhibit slowly, flashing a laser pointer at the cameras before pulling a wrench off of her vest and swinging herself closer to the guillotine that is the centerpiece of the room.</p><p> </p><p>The guillotine blade is a simple thing, and Janis’ brain runs through the little history lesson that Damian gave them on the French Revolution as she starts to unscrew the bolts keeping it fastened at the top of the wooden structure.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Of course, we all know about Queen Marie Antoinette, wife of Louis XVI, key figure in the French Revolution,” </em> he’d explained. <em> “Both of you have probably heard the famous quote ‘let them eat cake.’ She didn’t actually say that, fun fact, but whatever. This guillotine in particular was used to execute people for treason against the Queen, as well as many rebels during the revolution. It’s really no surprise it’s an artifact, given the amount of emotion and energy that accompanied the revolution, especially the beheading of Marie Antoinette herself.” </em></p><p> </p><p>The first bolt comes off easy, and Janis takes a deep breath before tucking it away. She can feel the blood rushing in her head, and she wonders how much longer she’ll be able to stay like this. Two more bolts left, and she still has to replace the blade so there’s no trace of a burglary left behind. Norbury had stressed the importance of keeping the mission lowkey. It wouldn’t be safe if the Warehouse got on anybody’s radar, especially a foreign country.</p><p> </p><p>Janis’ hands are sweaty beneath her gloves, and her hands shake a little as she puts the second bolt away in her pack. As she reaches for the third, her grip weakens on the wrench and it drops from her grip, clattering down to the base of the guillotine. She swears loudly before remembering herself, feeling her pulse spike as she steadies herself on the wooden beams.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, we have a problem?” she whispers, slowly beginning to lower to grab the wrench. Of course it’d fallen almost into the basket where the heads were supposed to drop, because that was just her luck.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Yeah we do,” </em> Regina hisses. <em> “You probably have a minute before the guards get to you. They heard whatever that clanging was, not to mention your cursing.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“I really don’t have time for you to scold me, George,” Janis replies testily. She grabs the guillotine base to balance herself with one hand while the other reaches through it to grab the wrench. Her fingers extend as far as possible, almost brushing it. “Just- just keep the guards distracted, I’m almost done.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina sounds none too pleased judging by her mumbling over the comms, but Janis tunes her out as she gropes around for a different place to grab and hold where she can actually reach the wrench. She makes a desperate swing and reaches for the wrench, but she feels whatever she’s holding give way and slacken, and she barely has a second to see the guillotine blade rushing towards her head before she has the wrench and swings out of the way.</p><p> </p><p>As soon as the blade hits the bottom, a shockwave of energy blows Janis back, and then she’s swinging towards the frame. She puts her hands out to stop her momentum, her wrists aching with the sudden impact. When she looks, the blade is perfectly placed in front of her.</p><p> </p><p><em> “Arrêtez-vous, police!” </em>The shout of the guard echoes to Janis in the exhibit, and she finishes up the last of the blade and brings it back up into the vent to make the switch, hoping Regina can keep them occupied long enough. By the sounds of her labored breathing, she’s engaging them in a fight.</p><p> </p><p>Janis is in the midst of replacing the blade when she hears a frustrated noise from below her, but she doesn’t have to glance away to know her partner has finally decided to grace her with her gorgeous presence. “A little busy, agent.”</p><p> </p><p>“I don’t care if you’re busy, hurry up; it’s only a matter of time before those guards wake up and realize this isn’t a solo mission,” Regina says. She watches Janis replace the last bolt on the blade, grab her things, and then fix the vent and lower to the floor. It doesn’t take long to get her right side up again, and then they’re retracing Regina’s meticulous steps through the museum with the blade locked up safely in a silver briefcase.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>Norbury isn’t pleased at all when they return to the Warehouse the next day, jet lagged to hell and exhausted, but carrying the blade. They’re expecting a warm reception from Damian, or maybe a sunshine-y Karen and Gretchen who just got back from sorting artifacts in the Ovoid Quarantine, but what they receive is a frowning senior agent spinning around in her desk chair to face them with her displeasure. “Hello, agents.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hello, Norbury,” they both chorus, feeling a little like schoolchildren about to be given a firm dressing down by their teacher, or worse the principal.</p><p> </p><p>“I know you’re both smart women, so normally I’d spare you the lecture on following orders, but what about ‘lowkey mission’ wasn’t clear to either of you?” she asks sharply. “I had to go into the museum’s security and doctor footage to hide Regina attacking the guards, not to mention explaining to the curator about what that shockwave was.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina glances at Janis who looks down at the floor, unable to even make eye contact with their boss. The former clears her throat and meets Norbury’s gaze. “Janis fumbled in the retrieval of the blade and attracted the <em> gendarmes </em>to her position. I had to incapacitate them so she wasn’t compromised.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hey, don’t make it all seem like it was my fault,” Janis snaps suddenly, glaring at Regina who sideeyes her. “It was your plan to begin with.”</p><p> </p><p>“My plan was perfect, and if you hadn’t dropped the wrench we wouldn’t have been made,” comes the smart response.</p><p> </p><p>Norbury stands up from the chair before they can start squabbling. “In any case, you both had a hand in almost blowing your covers. This whole operation is a super big secret, if you couldn’t tell, even from some of the most high ranking officials in our own government,” she reminds. “If neither of you can follow orders and stay under the radar, then I can have you benched and doing inventory until you learn.”</p><p> </p><p>“Who would go on snags, then?” Regina asks.</p><p> </p><p>“Damian and I conducted ourselves well before you two arrived,” Norbury says. “I’m sure we could hold over until you two understand how important it is to keep everything we do under wraps.” A pause as she lets her words sink in, and then- “I don’t want to have to do that, because you’re both very good at your jobs, but I will if I have to. Am I understood?”</p><p> </p><p>They share a look before nodding, Regina giving a firm “yes, ma’am” while Janis grumbles a “sure, whatever.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m just trying to make you better agents,” Norbury says, rubbing her brow. “I’d hate to see either of you leave the Warehouse, but we have rules.” The three of them stand in an awkward silence until Norbury waves her hand to dismiss them. “Go back to Miriam’s and relax; you look dead on your feet. If there’s a ping, I’ll get you on the Farnsworth, but just try to rest for now. The last few missions have run you ragged.”</p><p> </p><p>Janis and Regina nod and say their goodbyes to Norbury, shuffling out of the Warehouse and to the car they shared on the way there.</p><p> </p><p>“You didn’t have to throw me under the bus like that, dude,” Janis says as she slides into the passenger seat. “It was kinda, like, really uncool.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina shakes her head and sticks the key in the ignition, reversing and starting the drive out of the valley. “I didn’t mean for it to come out like that, but it’s not like I was lying to save my skin. It was the truth.”</p><p> </p><p>“We’re partners,” Janis complains. “We have to look out for each other.”</p><p> </p><p>“Somehow I don’t think ‘looking out for each other’ includes lying to our commanding officer,” Regina retorts, her fingers drumming over the leather steering wheel. She takes a deep breath and glances at Janis who’s still frowning at her. “Look, I’m sorry I threw you under the bus. Like Norbury said, we both had a hand in the whole not keeping it lowkey business. The way I see it, we just stay under the radar on our next mission to prove that we can do it, and then Norbury isn’t disappointed anymore.”</p><p> </p><p>Janis sighs and slumps in her seat, looking out the window with a furrowed brow. She doesn’t talk for a few minutes, just watching as the badlands transition into the countryside, and then Univille, before finally saying, “Okay, but we’re partners now. Like, super officially, have been on several missions together now partners. We’re in this together, dude.” She rests her elbow on the console and holds out her fist to Regina. “Now fist bump me.”</p><p> </p><p>“You’re so weird,” Regina mumbles to herself, though there’s a fond undercurrent. She lightly taps her knuckles to Janis’ before returning her hand to the wheel. “In this together, partner.”</p><p> </p><p>“Hell yeah.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>A few days of pure, blissful artifact silence pass by after the blade snag. Janis and Regina’s days are spent doing inventory in the stacks, making sure no artifacts have moved from their designated spots, and that everything is happy. The first time Karen had gone over the fact that artifact’s had moods, both of them had been more than a little concerned, but Gretchen had butt in to tell them Karen does an excellent job sorting the artifacts, and it’s very rare that an artifact acts out based on its placement these days.</p><p> </p><p>“King me!”</p><p> </p><p>And in the nights, they occupy their time relaxing in several different ways around the B&amp;B. One of Janis’ new favorite pastimes is playing games with Karen… except checkers.</p><p> </p><p>Janis doesn’t think it’s possible to beat Karen at checkers.</p><p> </p><p>“How did you do that so fast?” Janis mumbles, inspecting the board critically. She hadn’t even been counting their turns, but it seemed to take no time at all before Karen got one of her pieces to the end of the board, and Janis had lost almost half of her checkers in the process.</p><p> </p><p>From her spot where she’s sinking into the lovesac, Regina peeks over the thick book she brought back from the Warehouse (the first volume of the employee manual, apparently) to look at the game playing a few feet away from her. She raises an eyebrow before going back to her reading, seemingly uninterested in Janis’ skill-- or lack thereof-- in the game of checkers.</p><p> </p><p>It’s not long after that Janis loses probably her fifteenth game in a row to Karen, and she just slumps back into the couch while Karen beams from where she’s sitting cross legged on the floor. “Maybe you’ll win next time, Janis!”</p><p> </p><p>“Not likely, given the current pattern,” Regina mumbles from behind the manual. She glances up and grins impishly when she catches Janis glaring at her. “Don’t give me that look, Detective. I’m simply stating the facts.”</p><p> </p><p>Janis opens her mouth to retort, but is cut off by the front door opening and Damian breezing into the living room. He wiggles the fingers of both hands at them in a greeting wave, Karen miming the action, before sitting down in the armchair and crossing his legs. “Evening, ladies.” He spies the finished game of checkers on the coffee table and smirks, then. “I see you’ve become Karen’s new board game buddy, Janis.”</p><p> </p><p>“I can only draw the landscape and Regina’s frowny reading face so many times, Dame,” Janis replies smoothly, grinning up until the point that Regina launches a hair tie at her, smacking her dead on the forehead. She flinches and rubs the spot. “Ow! Jesus, George, were you a sniper in the military?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, but I’m a damn good shot.”</p><p> </p><p>Janis is just about to retaliate when Damian clears his throat and says, “Children, please. I’m not just here to partake in Gretchen’s delicious dinner.” He reaches into the satchel at his side and pulls out two folders, holding one each out to Regina and Janis. “We got a ping at the tail end of the day.”</p><p> </p><p>“It was getting a little boring around here, I guess,” Janis mumbles, grabbing the folder and flipping it open to skim the contents as Damian starts to talk.</p><p> </p><p>“Let’s set the scene,” he says dramatically. Karen immediately looks enthralled, smiling widely at him as he speaks. “Alpine, California. Hot as balls in early August. So dry that as soon as you walk outside, it feels like your nose is gonna crack off.”</p><p> </p><p>“So not too different to where we are,” Regina comments. “Barring dryness.”</p><p> </p><p>Damian waves a dismissive hand at her and continues spinning his tale. “Three bodies have shown up in your town, completely drained of their blood. Their necks have been <em> snapped, </em> their windpipes <em> destroyed, </em> and some of their bones have been crushed to almost <em> ash.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Spooky,” Janis says.</p><p> </p><p>“Any leads on what it is?” Regina asks, flipping the folder closed, figuring she can do a more indepth perusing of the information on the plane to California. “Something pinging on the Warehouse Most Wanted List, maybe?”</p><p> </p><p>“No, but it could be something on Damian Hubbard’s Most Wanted List,” Damian replies. He puts a hand over his forehead, visibly swooning as he says, “If this is a Dracula artifact, I think I might just have to fly to Alpine myself and seduce this vampire and run off into the moonrise with him.”</p><p> </p><p>Janis snorts and stands up from the couch, setting the folder on the coffee table before stretching as tall as she can, her back popping in several areas. “I think there’s a flaw in your logic there, Dame.”</p><p> </p><p>“My logic is infallible!”</p><p> </p><p>“Flawed,” Janis replies simply. “What if it’s a lady vampire?”</p><p> </p><p>Damian’s expression falls and he sinks back into the overstuffed armchair, defeated. He opens his mouth and sits up quickly at one point, almost like he has an argument, but then slumps again. It’s as much of a surrender as they’ll ever get out of the stubborn historian, so Janis takes that as a win and subtly pumps her fist.</p><p> </p><p>Regina rolls her eyes, but smiles fondly at the act.</p><p> </p><p>“Dinner is ready you g- oh!” Gretchen walks into the living room with a smile, drying her hands off on a dish towel before slinging it over her shoulder and addressing Damian. “You’re home early for once. I was wondering if you got caught up in the Warehouse library again.”</p><p> </p><p>“I’m not about to substitute a Gretchen dinner for whatever that bar in Univille is calling food these days,” Damian replies, standing up and clapping his hands. “Toxic waste.”</p><p> </p><p>“M’lady,” Janis says jauntily as she reaches out to Regina, bowing her head and grinning. It only broadens when Regina gives her an amused grin, a quirked brow, and allows herself to be lifted out of the lovesac. “Your meal awaits.”</p><p> </p><p>“Keep this attitude up and maybe I’ll think about letting you have the window seat on our flight.”</p><p> </p><p>Janis makes an indignant noise as Regina breezes past her, eliciting laughter from the onlooking agents.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>As soon as the dryness of San Diego hits them, Regina gets a nosebleed.</p><p> </p><p>“Motherfucker,” she swears, catching some blood on her finger so it won’t drip on her clothes. Her eyes dart around for a bathroom, but as she turns she sees Janis already has a small pack of tissues held out to her. It’s surprising, that’s for sure, but she doesn’t have time to think about that, so she just grabs a tissue and holds it up to her nose, mumbling, “Thanks.”</p><p> </p><p>“Anytime, partner.”</p><p> </p><p>They’ve both learned how to work around each other by this point. It’s been about a month of working with the Warehouse, and they have several snags under their belt. A routine formed around the third mission, and by now it’s second nature for Janis to grab their (relatively minimal) luggage and some road snacks from some dinky airport shop while Regina brings the rental car around.</p><p> </p><p>It’s shocking to both of them how easily it all came together once they finally settled. Two people who’d only ever worked alone or in small teams, now a dynamic duo of artifact hunting adepts. Neither of them can believe the relative simplicity of what seemed so complex and scary just a few weeks prior.</p><p> </p><p>“Our first stop should be the medical examiner’s,” Janis says, putting the address into her phone and showing Regina the general directions before starting the route. “Apparently the sheriffs office had the bodies sent here because the deaths were so fucking weird.”</p><p> </p><p>“Not hard to believe,” Regina replies as she pulls out of the airport and onto the route. “Drained blood, neck trauma, bones crushed under the weight of <em> something.” </em></p><p> </p><p>“Yeah, well, I’m just hoping we find the artifact before whatever’s doing this finds us.” With the route set up, Janis sets to work finding a radio station that isn’t grating on both of their ears.</p><p> </p><p>Regina snorts as she pulls onto a freeway. “You do realize that whatever’s doing this is probably gonna have the artifact on its person, so we will have to, y’know, deal with it eventually.”</p><p> </p><p>“Stop ruining my fantasy that this can be solved in a day, please.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The medical examiner’s office is blessedly air conditioned, getting them out of the intense, dry heat that managed to give Regina another nosebleed in the car ride there. It doesn’t help that it’s noon, the peak of the day, and the breeze feels like it’s coming directly from a space heater set on Desert.</p><p> </p><p>“Agents George and Sarkisian?” A woman with dark, braided hair asks. She’s holding a clipboard and wearing a set of scrubs, tapping her pen against the edge of the board.</p><p> </p><p>That’s another development: Janis, as a PI, didn’t exactly have jurisdiction outside of Illinois. After their first mission, where Janis was lucky enough to not be questioned, Norbury told Janis that the cover Warehouse agents most often use is the Secret Service.</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “Most people won’t be questioning why the Secret Service are snooping around on secret business,” Norbury says. “I’ll get you a badge made up. Honestly, it just slipped my mind for that first mission. It all happened a little quicker than expected, but artifacts never sleep.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>Regina flashes her badge to confirm their identities, and the woman introduces herself as Dr. Carol Jefferson, the coroner who’d been working closest with the Alpine victims. She leads them into the morgue where the most recent victim’s body is laid out, modesty covered by a sheet over his crotch. There’s stitching in the shape of a Y covering his pale chest, and Janis feels her stomach tighten a little when her brain registers that this is a dead body.</p><p> </p><p>“This is the third body that Alpine has sent to us,” Carol informs, snapping a pair of latex gloves on. She easily runs down the list of different injuries the man sustained. “It’s… a little worrisome, given the extent of the damage done to each one. These people's necks were snapped in a way that happens in movies, sure, but most people in reality don’t have the strength to manage it.”</p><p> </p><p>“Most people don’t have the strength to crush bones into dust either,” Regina comments, pointing at the body’s bruised and crumpled wrist. It looks like it got crushed in some industrial accident. “Whatever did this is stronger than the average human.”</p><p> </p><p>Janis mumbles something under her breath about not wanting to meet whatever did this, despite it being, y’know, their job to figure this out. She glances up and then away when she catches Regina’s raised eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>Regina clears her throat. “Do the three Alpine victims have anything connecting them beyond the state of their injuries and the location?”</p><p> </p><p>“Not that I’m aware of,” Carol says, shrugging ruefully. “Sorry I can’t be of more help, agents.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, this is just our first stop. It wouldn’t be one of our cases if it was easy, right Janis?” Regina folds her arms and turns to her partner, inviting her to give any last commentary before they head to the source of this weirdness.</p><p> </p><p>“That’s right,” Janis agrees. “Well, give us a call if you do end up finding anything these guys have in common.” She reaches into her back pocket for the small notepad she always keeps on her and rips out a page to write her number on. “Hopefully we’ll be able to figure out what did this and make sure it doesn’t happen to anyone else.”</p><p> </p><p>Carol nods and sets the piece of paper down on her desk, bidding the agents goodbye as they walk back out into the heat to their rental car.</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that was a fucking bust,” Janis comments as she drops into the passenger seat, immediately wincing when her skin makes contact with the metal piece of her seatbelt. The heat is stifling, and it’ll probably only get worse the further from the coast they get. “Why can’t artifacts exist in, like, I don’t know, Australia. It’s winter there right now, isn’t it?”</p><p> </p><p>Regina snorts as she turns the car on and rolls the windows down to get some air flowing. “Knowing you, you’d bitch about the cold as much as you do the heat, not to mention the wildlife.” She gives Janis a pointed look, almost daring her to argue, and a satisfied smirk spreads on her lips when the brunette remains silent. “That’s what I thought. Now, be a dear and put in the address for the sheriff’s office in Alpine, would you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Of course, princess,” Janis responds mockingly, though she does as she’s asked.</p><p> </p><p>They’re mellow for the first few minutes of the drive, singing along to some classic rock station that’ll definitely start to freak out once they get far enough away from downtown San Diego. And then:</p><p> </p><p>“Do you wanna play I Spy?”</p><p> </p><p>“Just navigate, for the love of god.”</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>The sheriff’s office is quaint and slow seeming. A few people are sitting in what looks like a small waiting area as different uniformed people mill about, answering calls, getting coffee, or just talking to other people. A few snippets of conversation reach them: stuff about the heat, about nearby wildfires and possibly having to evacuate, but nothing of particular interest to either of them.</p><p> </p><p>They approach a desk, Regina rapping lightly on the wood to get the attention of the bored looking officer behind it. When he lifts his head and sees them, his eyes widen. Janis snorts a little at the way his eyes rove over Regina, and she has to try so hard not to laugh in his face when the blonde flashes her badge and gives him a pointed look. Clearly he was too focused on Regina’s other assets to notice her… belt accessories.</p><p> </p><p>“Special Agent Regina George,” she says smoothly, replacing her badge right next to her gun. She gestures to Janis, next. “This is my partner, Agent Sarkisian. We called ahead to talk to Sheriff Ramsey?”</p><p> </p><p>“They aren’t running away, Sheriff, that’s why I’m here!”</p><p> </p><p>Regina turns to watch as a door further in the station opens, a portly, haggard looking man walking into the room with a ginger woman hot on his heels. She flicks her eyes up and down the woman: comfortable running shoes, short jeans shorts, a simple tank top, all with her red hair tied back in a ponytail that’s slightly damp with sweat. She nudges Janis and indicates for them to watch this encounter unfold.</p><p> </p><p>“Ms. Heron, for the last time,” the man they can both figure out is Sheriff Ramsey says exasperatedly, turning around to face the woman. “There are no signs of a break in at the sanctuary! There’s nothing my officers can do! Your lions aren’t being stolen. Besides-” he rubs a cloth over his sweaty forehead and shakes his head- “it’s impossible for a person to just <em> pick up a lion </em> and steal it without some signs of struggle. They’re running.”</p><p> </p><p>Ms. Heron looks ready to yell at this man a little more, but he just holds up a hand and, in no uncertain terms, tells her he’s a very busy man and he has other, more pressing things to deal with than some missing lions. He turns his back on her and rolls his eyes before setting his sights on the professionally dressed agents in his lobby. “Ah, you must be the woman I spoke to on the phone.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina nods and introduces herself and Janis, all while the brunette keeps an eye on the fuming redhead who’s collapsed into one of the uncomfortable looking chairs in the lobby. She’s texting furiously, and Janis feels something drawing her to her. When Regina starts to pull away to speak to the Sheriff, Janis says:</p><p> </p><p>“I’ve got a vibe.” She glances at the woman again. “You go ahead.”</p><p> </p><p>“Don’t get too comfortable,” Regina replies warningly. She’s never been the most trusting of Janis’ vibes, saying they’re too abstract as feelings.</p><p> </p><p>“Have fun with the Sheriff.” Janis splits off and goes to sit beside Ms. Heron, pulling her own phone out to start checking her messages. When a few minutes of odd silence pass, Janis finally leans back and says, “The sheriff’s a pretty rude guy, isn’t he?”</p><p> </p><p>Ms. Heron gives her an odd look, obviously not understanding why a federal agent is sitting beside her, let alone talking to her.</p><p> </p><p>Janis clears her throat and sticks a hand out to her. “I’m Janis Sarkisian.”</p><p> </p><p>“Cady Heron,” the woman says, hesitantly shaking Janis’ hand. “Not to be rude, but why’re you talking to me instead of the sheriff?”</p><p> </p><p>“I got a good feeling about you,” Janis replies easily, shifting to get more comfortable in the chair. She crosses her ankle over her knee and tries not to smile at the way Cady seems a little confused, yet amused by her air of mystery. “So what’s up with you and lions? I know we’re out of downtown, but I’m pretty sure lions aren’t native to California.”</p><p> </p><p>Cady gives a short laugh and shakes her head, pulling her phone out and bringing up her photos. She flicks through a few of various different animals: lions, tigers, bears, bobcats, the works. “My family runs a sanctuary a little bit from here. We’ve got lots of animals.” Her expression darkens and she sets her phone in her lap again, frowning. “Except…”</p><p> </p><p>Janis raises an encouraging eyebrow.</p><p> </p><p>“Over the past week or so our lions have been going missing,” Cady says sadly, twisting a ring around her thumb as she talks. “Three have disappeared so far, and the police won’t do anything about it because there aren’t signs of a break in.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, that’s not surprising,” Janis scoffs, crossing her arms. “Even when there are signs of a burglary the police can’t solve shit. Y’know, in 2015 only 19% of the property crimes reported in this damn country were solved.” She sees the bewildered look that Cady is giving her and quickly continues with, “I have a Bachelors in Sociology and a Masters in Criminology. I’ve done a lot of research on shit like this.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s… that makes sense,” Cady says, shrugging a little. “I know a bit about social stuff, but not much. I’m more of a science and tech girl, m’self. My degree is in computer science.”</p><p> </p><p>“I actually wanted to be a criminal profiler, or a criminologist, but then I decided to get my detective license, and now I’m with the Secret Service,” Janis explains. She plays with the edge of her badge, thinking about how easily the lie falls from her lips, even if it isn’t quite a lie. She’s a government agent, and perhaps the Warehouse qualifies as a subset of the Service. Her eyes dart to Cady who’s staring a little listlessly at the floor and she reaches over to clasp her shoulder. “Tell me more about the lions. Maybe I can help.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Lions, Tigers, and Bears</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Janis gets Regina on board with helping Cady. They investigate the sanctuary and question a suspect, but their night is about to get a whole lot worse.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>okay y'all so this chapter is officially like the uh hm... it's A Lot so uh warnings in the end notes for those who don't want spoilers?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>“Okay, so go over this again with me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis gives Regina an exasperated look and scrubs over her face, thankful she’d opted out of wearing makeup for this particular day because she knows she’d be smudging her eyeliner and mascara all over if she were. “I’ve explained it three times now.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m just trying to understand how you think some missing lions connect to people getting their blood drained, bones crushed, and necks snapped,” Regina replies dryly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stolen lions,” Cady interjects from where she’s standing slightly removed from the two bickering agents. She shrinks a little when Regina turns to her with a cool glare, one eyebrow raised as she inspects Cady. “Sorry, but it’s important.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stolen lions,” Regina repeats slowly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look, Sheriff Dickface didn’t have any information for us, and obviously something’s up with Cady’s family’s sanctuary. I have a fucking vibe about it, dude, and I need you to trust me,” Janis pleads, clapping her hands together and giving Regina as honest an expression that she can.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina pinches the bridge of her nose, smoothing her thumb and forefinger down either side of it before letting it drop to her side. “Fine, okay. Lead the way, Ms. Heron.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Call me Cady, please,” she says sweetly. “The sanctuary is only a little bit out of town, you can just follow my car.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>***</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian’s so close to the Farnsworth that the only thing showing on the small screen is his eye, staring incredulously out at Janis. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“What do you mean you’re going to an animal sanctuary?!”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do neither of you listen to me when I’m speaking?” Janis exclaims, rubbing over her forehead. She hears Regina snort in the driver's seat, but chooses to ignore her. “I’ve got a vibe about Cady and the lions. I think they’re connected to the bloodsucking victims we saw in San Diego.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“Janis you’ve had a few batshit theories in the past when it comes to missions-”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My vibe about Mr. Richards was right! I knew that something about him was funky and I told you two so! You just didn’t believe me until you saw him pull the fucking gun on us,” Janis defends.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Damian gives her a mildly unimpressed look as he shakes his head. He taps the camera on the Farnsworth before pulling away and crossing his arms. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“I’m not gonna parent you two. You’ve proven yourselves to be capable agents.” </span>
  </em>
  <span>He moves in close to the Farnsworth again. </span>
  <em>
    <span>“Now, don’t fuck it up. Hubbard out.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis flips the device shut and shoves it in her back pocket again, crossing her arms as she broods in the passenger seat. “I don’t want to be friends with you or Damian anymore.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina barks out a surprised laugh, eyes never leaving the back of Cady’s Jeep as they drive up the winding roads out of downtown Alpine. “What happened to sticking together because we’re partners, Detective? Suddenly you don’t want to be my friend?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know you’re just waiting for the moment to say ‘I told you so’ when this lion shit doesn’t pan out,” Janis says. “I can see it in your eyes. Has anyone ever told you you have judgy eyes?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’d be surprised,” Regina replies as they pull into a parking space beside Cady. They wave before getting out of their cars and stepping into the dry heat, pulling their sunglasses down so they won’t be blinded by the afternoon sun.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The sanctuary is… expansive, to say the least. Cady points out a few buildings, including a lodge where people can spend the night, a place where people have weddings, and a main office building.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So your family owns this place? Do you work here, or…?” Janis asks, trailing off a little as they’re led through the fenced enclosures.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady shrugs, dragging her fingers against the tight chain link as they pass it. “I’m actually a professor at CalTech. I teach classes on math and computer science, but I spend my summers here with my mom and dad, helping them with things like the website, and of course the animals too.” She pauses for a moment, looking out into one of the enclosures, smiling softly at a bear that’s padding around in the distance. “This was my life until I went to college, honestly, and it still kinda is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Touching,” Regina says. “So can you show us where the lions are kept? Maybe there’s some evidence of a break in that isn’t immediately noticeable. Footprints, things out of place, stuff like that.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’ll be right over here.” Cady stops next to a large swathe of fence backed up to some trees and a small clearing. She gestures up at the tall fence, how there’s wire meant to keep the animals in and other things out, but no breakage in the links showing someone carving a whole. “I took pictures of some footprints I found, but the Sheriff said it was probably just some volunteer prints.” She rolls her eyes as she pulls her phone out and shows them the pictures. “No one who works here has feet this big. No one!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina removes her sunglasses and squints against the bright light before looking around on the ground for any tracks. “Could be an artifact giving someone crazy strength? Makes them bigger?” she suggests. She squats down in the dirt, inspecting it as Janis goes up to the fence and starts testing how sturdy it is.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They’re probably ten minutes into investigating what little they’ve been given with a little cart drives up, a kind looking man behind the wheel. Janis and Regina share a look, the latter raising her eyebrow slightly to indicate the former should go eavesdrop while she continues her work.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis surreptitiously positions herself closer to the man, who has since pulled Cady slightly aside and is now speaking to her:</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s good to see you, sweetheart,” he says, kissing Cady on the forehead quickly. “Mom told me about what the Sheriff said to you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We won’t get any help from the Alpine PD, but I found some people who might be able to help.” Cady gestures to the two agents who offer short waves and tight smiles. “Janis says they specialize in the strange and unexplainable.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, it’s better than nothing, I suppose.” He mops some sweat from his brow with the collar of his shirt before taking on a more serious expression. “Charles was by today. What did the Sheriff say about him?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis’ ears perk up at the mention of this. Cady hadn’t mentioned anything about anyone named Charles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady shakes her head and bites her lip before saying, “He wasn’t especially helpful about that either. Said if he hadn’t caused anyone harm other than arguing it wasn’t against the law and he couldn’t be arrested.” She pauses and looks at the ground before looking up. “Dad, he scares me.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I know.” He squeezes Cady’s shoulder reassuringly and gives her a smile. “But it’ll be okay. He won’t hurt us, or the animals.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Janis,” Regina says loudly to get her attention, and the attention of the Heron’s standing a little ways away. She stands up and dusts her knees off, despite not having set them on the ground. “I can’t find anything over here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady looks crestfallen, her brow knitting together as she shifts uncertainly on her feet. “I know that they aren’t running away. I know they aren’t!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is there anything else going on around the sanctuary that could help us? Suspicious people?” Janis questions pointedly, putting her hands on her hips as she watches Cady’s face color with slight embarrassment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“There is, uh.” Cady looks at her dad for support and finds him smiling at her gently. “Over the past few months, there’s been this guy who’s been harassing my parents. His name is Charles Braddock, but most people in town call him Oak because he’s- well, he’s built like an oak tree!” She laughs nervously, shifting from side to side. “He’s been going after me recently. It’s… he’s always been aggressive, but in the past few weeks it’s been so much worse.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis and Regina frown at that, seeing the genuine fear in Cady’s expression. They both know they have a very important issue at hand-- the artifact-- but this young woman is being harassed and her parent’s livelihood is being stolen from. Not to mention they have no leads on their case currently.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can you give us an address for Mr. Braddock?” Regina asks, reaching into Janis’ back pocket for the little notepad she always keeps on her. It makes Janis jump a little, startled, but Regina pays it no mind. “I’d like to pay him a little visit.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>***</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Special Agent Regina George, Secret Service. This is my partner, Agent Janis Sarkisian,” Regina greets coolly, holding her badge up to her face before flipping it closed and putting it back on her belt next to her gun. “Are you Charles Braddock?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The man in the doorway of the cabin-like house looks both of them up and down. He’s big, beefy, almost to the level of steroid-like discomfort. Janis has never liked overly muscled men, or men in general to be fair, but Charles is on a completely different level than the men she used to see in the gym during college and some of her adult life.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“People in town call me Oak,” he says gruffly. His voice is like a stampede of wild buffalo, deep and heavy and loud. He leans in the doorway, arms crossed, obviously not keen on letting them into his house. “What do you want?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here to talk to you about the reported harassment of the Heron’s over at the animal sanctuary out of town,” Janis says. She takes a step forward, dwarfed by the man even at near six feet in her boots. “Can we come in? It’s a little warm out here.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oak narrows his eyes at the bold move, but he does step away and gesture for them to enter. They don’t get far into the entryway before they notice the… choice of decor.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Animals skins, furs, and mounted trophies cover the inside of the house. It’s so much that Janis can’t help but let her jaw drop in surprise. She almost doesn’t realize the way Regina tucks a little into her side when Oak brushes past, glaring at him with the fury of about ten thousand suns. When she looks down at her, implicitly asking what’s wrong with her eyes, Regina just shakes her head and whispers, “I’ll tell you in the car.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The weirdness there just about sets the tone for the interview with him. He’s weirdly evasive, not giving up much, and they can both sense his irritation mounting the deeper they try to dig into his history with the sanctuary. Janis can tell Regina’s getting more uncomfortable the longer they sit on this man’s couch, so she says, “Okay, I think we’ve heard enough.” She stands up and holds a hand out to Regina to lift her from the couch. “Thank you for your time, Mr. Braddock.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oak doesn’t offer them a goodbye, instead watching as Janis herds Regina out of the house and back to the car.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When they’re settled, AC blasting, Janis turns in her seat. “What the hell was that in there?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When he walked past me I think he touched my butt,” Regina says quietly, still looking a little worriedly at the house they’re parked out front of. “And of course it’s happened before, I’m a woman who’s worked in several male dominated fields, but I can’t just go breaking the fingers of suspects who happen to be thicker and stronger than me by ten times like I did in the Marines or Secret Service.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis clenches her fist and flexes her jaw. “And he was fucking staring at you through the entire fucking interview. Fucking creep, I’ll stab his ass and see how he likes-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Janis!” Regina interrupts, reaching over to stop the hand already reaching into her pocket for the switchblade. “He’s our only lead right now, not to mention that would literally be murder. No one in town is acting weird except him-- Cady said so-- and she’s been here all summer.” She pauses, something clicking in her brain. “And she said the last few weeks have been especially bad.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You think he has the artifact? But what about the people with drained blood? Those victims have no connection to Oak,” Janis says, her shoulders slumping dejectedly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Maybe that’s the thing,” Regina replies, getting more excited as things begin to fall into place. “I know you’re normally the one with off-the-wall theories, but listen to me like I’ve listened to you-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You don’t listen to me-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up and listen!” she snaps, clapping her hands together. When Janis finally relents, she continues, “You saw all the furs and shit in Oak’s house. Obviously he’s fascinated with animals, right? He’s also harassing the people at the sanctuary, around the same time lions have started disappearing. What if that’s what we need to be focusing on, and the people with their blood drained are the downside of the artifact?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis pauses, absorbing Regina’s words for a long moment before she purses her lips. “And now since you’re done being me, I’m gonna be you.” She waits for Regina to nod. “Doesn’t that seem a little farfetched?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Never rule anything out~.” Regina lightly taps Janis’ nose before twisting to pull her seatbelt on. “Now get buckled in and let’s go pick up Cady. There’s still a few hours until it gets dark.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cady? Nighttime?” Janis questions in succession, even if she does follow the orders she’s given. “What are you planning?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re gonna stake out the sanctuary and catch this poacher in action!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>***</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady seems excited when they pick her up from the sanctuary. They ask her about a good burger joint in Alpine that they can get to and sit down to eat and she happily guides them, seemingly surprised that she’s making friends with these agents trying to help her family.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t really have friends in Alpine, or even at CalTech,” she admits, playing with her thumb ring. “The other professors are a lot older than me, and my students are younger than me, so i just have my couple of TAs… and even then, some of them are my students, so.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You need more friends your age,” Janis declares as they walk into the burger joint and find a place to sit, Janis and Regina together on the same side of the booth while Cady sits across from them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugs and twiddles her thumbs. “I’m used to being alone. It’s not the most fun, but it’s doable.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They share idle conversation while they wait for their food to arrive, joking and talking as if they aren’t two secret agents and a college professor out to catch a bad guy with an evil antique. It almost feels normal, and it reminds Janis of her high school days. Cady fits into her and Regina’s existing rapport with relative ease, as well, and they’re both impressed by how well she keeps up with their fast-paced banter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, around mid-meal, Regina decides it’s time to broach the idea of a stakeout to Cady. She delicately wipes the sides of her mouth with a napkin and then drops it in the pile of greasy ones collecting on the table, folding her hands. “So we did ask you here to talk to you about something.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady straightens out in her seat, immediately serious. “Oh?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We want you to come with us for our stakeout tonight,” Janis says, decidedly less serious than the two other women. She’s slouched in her seat, her arms haphazardly spread across the table as she chews her food.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You want me to come… on a stakeout… with you guys,” Cady says, sounding out the words in between bites of her burger and fries.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They nod.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why?” she asks quietly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Well, the way I see it,” Janis starts, gesturing with a-- rather flaccid-- french fry as she speaks. “Regina and I don’t live in Alpine, and you probably know more people here than we do. If it isn’t Oak, then it might be someone you know and can ID for us so we can get what we need, and you can be free to know this poacher is behind bars.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady still looks a little nervous, swirling a fry in ketchup for a moment before popping it into her mouth. It gives her a few moments longer to consider her answer before she finally throws her hands up and says, “Sure. Why not?”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <br/>
  <br/>
</p>
<p>
  <b>***</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>“If this artifact can give someone the strength to crush bones and lift lions, you have to be very careful. We don’t know if the Tesla will work to subdue someone hopped up on this kind of artifact energy,” Norbury said strongly, leaning close to the camera of the Farnsworth. “Do you understand? I don’t want either of you doing something reckless and getting hurt. Stay in the car and focus on finding out if it is this Oak. We can make a plan for snagging the artifact later.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>That was probably four hours ago, just around sunset. It’d been a beautiful view, the sky painted different shades of red, orange, and yellow as the deepness of night slowly began to settle in. Her fingers itched for a set of fine paints and a canvas to capture the natural beauty, and she was reminded of why she missed her undergrad years for just a moment.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, it’s closing on midnight, and there’s been no sign of any suspicious persons trying to break into the sanctuary to steal a lion.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis can feel Cady getting more antsy the longer they sit in the back together, so she reaches out to squeeze her shoulder in a comforting gesture. “Your first stakeout. How’s it feel, civvie?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It’s a lot more boring than I expected,” Cady admits, giving a shy smile and a shrug.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>In the front seat, Regina snorts. She’s been pretty quiet throughout everything, drumming her perfectly manicured nails against her thigh as she continuously scans the area. Her focus is intense, eyes darting around to find the source of every little movement or sound. It’s impressive to Janis, as someone who’s done stakeouts many times before, but she figures Regina’s whole job pre-Warehouse was surveillance and finding the smallest details in a big picture that could spell danger.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I just hope that this person is just…” Cady trails off, looking down at her lap with a sad expression. “I hope my lions are still alive, y’know? They were- they were family as much as mom and dad are.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis doesn’t say anything about that, her natural pessimism rearing its head. The lions are probably long dead, tragic as it is; either that or they’ve been sold off to the highest bidder in an auction. She’s heard about rich assholes buying exotic pets like that, keeping them when they have no rights to a wild animal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It’s sickening, and Janis hates that she thinks Cady’s lions have gone into awful homes, or even graves, after being stolen away from Sunrise.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They spend probably another hour in silence, ever vigilant. The night grows longer, and it looks like Cady’s starting to get drowsy. Her eyelids are drooping and she yawns into her hand every few minutes, something that only makes Janis more aware of the fact that her and Regina have been up since 5am Pacific Standard Time.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis is about ready to maybe strike up a conversation with Cady out of sheer boredom when her gut clenches, making her sit up straighter as she grips the seat ahead of her to ground herself. She blinks a few times, and when she looks up, she sees Regina glancing in the rearview with worried eyes. When they finally meet, Janis just whispers, “Bad vibe.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady looks like she’s about to question her, but Regina holds a hand up to quiet both of them, her brow pinching together slightly as her eyes do a slow scan of the area.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They all see it within about five seconds of one another: a silhouette, trudging up to the fence surrounding the sanctuary. It’s tall and broad, backlit by the lamps set up around the fence perimeter. There’s no way they’ll be able to see any facial features unless the figure turns around, so that means they won’t get anything until they’re on their way out, which gives them a very limited window to figure out who they are.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With practiced ease, the shadow throws something over the wire at the top of the fence and climbs over. They seem to take a moment to look around before stalking a little further into the sanctuary, obviously searching for one of the animals.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What do we do,” Cady whispers. She’s breathing shallowly, her eyes wide as they watch the figure snoop around her family’s livelihood. “They’re- they’re gonna take another one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We’re here to get an ID,” Regina says grimly, clenching her jaw. She’s grown to like Cady in the time they’ve known each other, and she feels for the lions almost as much as the redhead, but orders are orders, and Norbury said to not engage. “So we stay put.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Minutes pass, tension thick in the car as the figure appears and disappears from sight every now and then. Regina’s gripping the steering wheel with white knuckles, her head tilted to one side as her expression pinches. Cady’s at the edge of her seat, bottom lip caught between her teeth as her pulse pounds.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis pitches forward again, another vibe hitting her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Worse.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Guys,” Janis says, but whatever she’s going to say is interrupted by the sound of a gunshot.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady jumps and immediately goes to open the car door, but Janis grabs her around the waist and tugs her back against her chest to hold her still. She struggles against the strength of the detective, but Janis holds fast.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Let me go! Something’s happening!” Cady tries to pry Janis’ arms off of her to no avail.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The three of them watch as Chip Heron walks into the light of the lamps, a shotgun held in his hands, pointed in the direction of the figure. It’s obvious to them that the first shot was meant as a warning, as the figure hasn’t moved other than whipping around to face Mr. Heron.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Dad?” Cady whispers incredulously. “No, no, Janis, let me go!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Shut up!” Regina hisses as she locks all of the car doors. She gives Janis a pointed look in the rearview, and she reluctantly covers Cady’s mouth with her hand to retain their silent position, even as she continues to struggle, going so far as to try and bite Janis’ hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Mr. Heron seems to be talking to the figure, shaking his head. From this far away, they can’t make it out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It all happens so fast.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The figure approaches Mr. Heron. He never moves the shotgun from where it’s pointed at the silhouette, but he also never fires. It’s a bluff, and the agents know that. Mr. Heron could never kill someone, even someone who’s stealing his lions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>With an inhuman strength and speed, the shadow grabs the barrel of the shotgun and twists it until it snaps. Once the weapon is disposed of, they reach out and grab Mr. Heron by the neck, lifting him into the air with one hand.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>All three of them watch as Mr. Heron struggles, trying to remove the fingers clutching his throat. He kicks and screams, echoing to their position before they watch his head loll to the side as his body ceases its movement.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady screams behind Janis’ hand, her eyes welling with tears as her father’s body drops to the ground. She tries to slam her head back into Janis’, tries to kick and use her elbows to get free, but Janis never lets go as Regina tells them firmly to “stay the fuck down!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis closes her eyes, trying to shush the inconsolable woman in her arms, rocking them back and forth like her brother used to do for her so many years ago. Her teenage problems seem like small trifles in comparison to watching your father be murdered before your very eyes while you can do nothing but watch. She feels her heart sink as Cady’s screaming transitions into sobbing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh my god,” she hears Regina mumble, and when she opens her eyes, a second scream reaches them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It isn’t Cady, nor is it the silhouette.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Betsy Heron stands, horrified, as she takes in the sight of a figure standing over her dead husband. She must’ve come running when she heard the gunshot, or maybe Mr. Heron’s screams, but nonetheless, she remains frozen not even twenty feet away from the scene, one hand over her mouth as she absorbs it.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The figure doesn’t even give her a moment, sprinting up to her with preternatural speed and grabbing her with two hands this time. It takes mere seconds for Mrs. Heron to drop like a stone, neck twisted unnaturally in a position similar to the victims at the medical examiner's office.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Two minutes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It takes not even two minutes for Janis to watch Mr. and Mrs. Heron die.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>No one else should have to have died because of you,</span>
  </em>
  <span> a voice in her head hisses. It’s male, but garbled, almost like several different voices layering over each other. The echoes linger in her head, and she can still remember the car wreck, the anguish on her parent’s faces, the sick pit in her gut.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Three people she didn’t save, all because she was just following instructions.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Orders.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Regina,” Janis whispers, still holding Cady where she’s a trembling, sobbing mess of a woman. The figure is still standing in the sanctuary, hardly showing any signs of exertion. There’s still time to save more people if they do something now. “Regina,” she says again, more desperately, when the blonde just clenches her jaw.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Stay in the car,” Regina says sternly, unlocking her door and pushing it open. She looks back at Cady and Janis for a moment, the former with tears spilling like rivers down over her cheeks and the hand over her mouth, the latter with a look of fear and sadness on her face. It’s enough to have her turning around, drawing the Tesla.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>
    <span>This is a stupid idea, George,</span>
  </em>
  <span> she thinks to herself as she slinks up to the fence surrounding the sanctuary. The only backup she has is Janis, technically, because Cady shouldn’t be getting herself involved in this, and the only weapon Janis has is her switchblade. She won’t be too much help in a fight with a man who can snap necks in seconds. So many rules are being broken, in this moment, and it makes the hairs on the back of her neck stand on edge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Or maybe that’s the fact that the figure is staring straight at her as she walks up to the fence.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now that she’s closer, she can immediately make out his face: the face of Charles Braddock. He doesn’t seem surprised to see Regina, but instead appears very angry. His muscles ripple unnaturally as he takes a running leap over the fence and lands on the packed dirt where Regina once stood.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Bless her quick thinking and reflexes, because she darted away as soon as she saw him coming at her.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Delicate fingers twist the dial on the Tesla up to three with the knowledge that anything about a four could lead to her vaporizing Oak. She raises it and fires as he advances slowly, a hulking creature of a man. It’s like in the few hours since seeing them he’s doubled his muscle mass to an inhuman level.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The electric shock makes him seize in place for a moment, the arcs of lightning spreading over his body before he relaxes and slouches.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He lifts his head and is in front of Regina in seconds, batting the Tesla out of Regina’s hand and shoving her back into a tree with both hands. She grunts as tears spring to her eyes, her back beginning to throb as Oak approaches. His hand snaps up, gripping her throat and lifting her against the tree trunk, beginning to squeeze like he must’ve done to Mr. Heron. She tries in vain to remove the thick, meaty fingers around her throat, her eyes darting up and down Oak’s body before they land on a gleaming necklace he’s wearing-</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Hey, champ,” a low voice purrs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Oak turns his head in time for Janis to slide her switchblade directly into his kidney. She pulls it back, watching as blood begins to spill from the deep wound. His mouth drops open in an “oh” of surprise, a strangled noise escaping him as his hand loosens and he collapses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis flicks the crimson off the blade, breathing a little heavily, before she looks at Regina. Worry shines bright in her eyes as she reaches out to cup her jaw, lifting it to reveal the sure to bruise handprint covering her neck. “Are you okay,” she asks softly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina nods, her eyes a little glassy as she swipes the tears from her cheeks. She looks down at Oak, at the way he slumped to the ground, gurgling a little. He’s almost certainly in shock from the placement of Janis’ attack, so it makes it easy for Regina to grab the pair of purple gloves she now always keeps in her back pocket and snap one on before reaching down to grab the chain she noticed. Her back twinges with pain as she bends, but she rips the chain free from his thick neck and lifts up the pendant dangling from it: a Norse symbol stares back at them.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Damian’s gonna be so disappointed it wasn’t a Dracula artifact,” Janis jokes, reaching into her jacket for the foil, neutralizer bag. She pulls it open and they both duck their heads away as Regina drops the pendant inside, golden sparks flying out of it as the artifact is enclosed.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina gives her a shaky smile before her expression drops. “Cady,” she croaks. Her head whips around. “Where is-”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis rests a hand on Regina’s mid back, almost like she knows that’s where the pain is radiating, and points in the direction of the sanctuary. They both watch as Cady drops down over the other side of the fence, having climbed over the rug Oak must’ve used to cover the wire. She shuffles up to her dad’s body and just stares at it, her head bowed as her arms wrap around her stomach, squeezing tightly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You should call Norbury,” Regina says quietly. She looks down at Oak, now unmoving. His chest is still, and the blood has stopped pooling beneath him. She sniffs loudly and puts on a cool expression.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you gonna do?” Janis asks, still watching Cady warily.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’m gonna talk to her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis lets her go without too much trouble, flipping open the Farnsworth and dialling into the frequency for Norbury as Regina scales the fence and drops down onto the other side. She quietly approaches Cady, making sure that she’s in her sight before she reaches out to squeeze her shoulder.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The tears have stopped flowing, but her breathing is still unsteady. Her expression is blank, eyes red rimmed and puffy, cheeks blotchy. It looks almost like she’s dead on her feet, the same as Oak near Janis, the same as her father at her feet and her mother a little bit away.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Is he dead?” Cady asks thickly. She doesn’t look up at Regina, eyes fixed on her father’s body.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“He is,” Regina replies. “And we got what we were looking for.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So you’re leaving, then?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>A frown crosses Regina’s face. The last thing she wants to do is leave Cady alone to pick up the pieces of her life now that her parents are dead. She knows what it’s like to see death, and she knows you never come back from it. Being alone is the last thing that Cady needs. What she needs is support, something she doesn’t seem to have in Alpine.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis was chosen for the Warehouse based on her vibes, based on how she follows her impulses.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Why don’t you come back with us?” Regina offers.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>No one ever said Regina George couldn’t be impulsive.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>***</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis isn’t totally on board with the idea when the police arrive and Regina flashes her badge to get them to back off. In fact, she pulls Regina aside to hiss, “What the fuck were you thinking, inviting her to the Warehouse?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She just watched her parents get murdered, Janis,” Regina snaps. “The least we could do is offer her a place to stay and some sympathy and support. Besides, I think she could be an exceptional asset. She’s a computer science professor at CalTech for god's sake!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Look.” Janis takes a deep breath and gets even closer to Regina as a policeman passes behind them, herding some paramedics who are carrying the stretcher holding Oak’s body. She speaks softly, now, “I know what it’s like to lose family, I really do, but Norbury’s already pissed as hell at us for not keeping this on the D-L. I’m not looking to get a new asshole poked in right next to my old one.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“When have you ever been one to follow the rules, </span>
  <em>
    <span>Detective.”</span>
  </em>
  <span> Regina pokes her right in the stomach, then, and whispers, “What is your intuition telling you to do. You follow that above all else.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis pauses, her mouth opening and closing a few times as she tries to pinpoint the exact feeling in the pit of her stomach, what it’s trying to convey. She glances around until her eyes land on Cady, being comforted by a kind looking paramedic as she’s checked for injuries, despite not having been caught in the scuffle.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina gives her a pointed look. “Well?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Norbury’s gonna fucking kill us,” Janis groans.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Despite this, she nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <b>***</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“What were you two thinking?!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis and Regina share a slightly ashamed look as they bow their heads so they don’t have to see Norbury’s furious expression.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It must look comical to the others, seated at the dining room table as they speak in low tones to Cady while flicking their eyes into the living room where Norbury is giving her two newest agents a firm dressing down; two grown women, one a decorated Marine and Secret Service Agent, the other a hardened detective, and here they are getting scolded by their boss like schoolchildren.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Do you know how much trouble you could get in for exposing the Warehouse to a civilian,” Norbury hisses, crossing her arms and tapping her foot. “Every agent and consultant to the Warehouse has to go through an extreme vetting process, you can’t just bypass that process because you feel bad for someone.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She watched both of her parents get murdered because you told us to stay in the car,” Regina snaps, her eyes blazing. “We could have done something!”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Or all three of you could’ve died!” Norbury runs a hand through her hair, frustrated. She lets out a laugh, unbecoming of the situation. “You’re both grounded until you understand the gravity of your work here. Damian and I will be handling snags from here on out.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis glances into the dining room, sees the way Karen is rubbing Cady’s back soothingly as she speaks to her. It looks like the redhead is crying again, or at least holding back sobs. She looks back at Norbury, wincing when she clears her throat and she attracts the majority of her ire. “What’ll happen to her?” she asks, gesturing with her thumb towards Cady.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Norbury purses her lips and follows Janis’ eyes. Something in her seems to morph and change, anger fading into irritation before disappearing altogether. She makes eye contact with Karen who gives a small nod before sighing. “She’ll be staying here. She knows too much; we need to keep an eye on her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They both visibly relax hearing that. They’d been bracing for the worst since getting Cady on the plane with them back in San Diego, and just being grounded while Cady got to stay with them? That’s, honestly, far better than either of them had been hoping for.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re dismissed,” Norbury says succinctly. “Be at the Warehouse at 9am sharp tomorrow morning. Pack a lunch, because you aren’t leaving the stacks until the entire damn facility has been inventoried.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yes ma’am,” they chorus solemnly.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>cw minor character death(s)<br/>cw blood<br/>cw stabbing<br/>cw strangling</p>
<p>it's not all the most graphic, but please take care of yourselves</p>
<p>anyways! how did this feel, y'all? i'm really sorry (am i though?) yell at me in the comments, drop a kudos, and find me on tumblr @kingwisewolf where i'm pretty much always around! my askbox is open for any and all shouting and even requests!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. Ghosts of the Past</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>After nine days of failing to get her talk, Janis finally takes Karen's place and tries a new tactic to get Cady to open up.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>merry fucking christmas to me, i finally was able to write this. it's definitely the shortest chapter of this fic, and might be the shortest of the entire thing, but it's just an interlude that has to happen before the next chapter which is, excitingly, already half written! hopefully it won't take two and a half months again, so uh yeah? enjoy?</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Nine days have passed since everything happened, and the only break that Regina and Janis have had from Norbury’s endless menial tasks was accompanying Cady to her parent’s funeral. They’d asked Norbury about attending, fully expecting to be turned down, but she’d plainly told them they could do whatever they wanted with their vacation days, including going to the funeral of the parents of a woman they hardly know. As they exited the Warehouse, Janis had grumbled something about her being a little more sympathetic, and Regina couldn’t help but agree.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The funeral came and went in a whirlwind. It was a small affair, really, and Cady explained that she didn’t have much living extended family (aside from the maternal aunt who’d offered to put together the funeral and find out what to do with the sanctuary), and her parents, like her, also didn’t have many close friends. She spent most of the event silently crying, and then slept fitfully on the plane back to South Dakota following a heated call with her boss about going on an extended period of leave to process her new normal.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina offered to reach out to some old contacts about “disappearing” her boss after hanging up, and it barely made her crack a smile. She said she’d deal with it in the coming days before they all boarded their plane.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Now, the B&amp;B has transitioned into a state of solemnity. With Regina and Janis being worked to the bone under Norbury’s instruction at the Warehouse, neither of them are particularly lively, and Gretchen and Karen have alternately been checking in with and trying to entertain a grieving Cady. None of this to mention that there’s been a higher volume of pings, and with Regina and Janis being grounded, that work falls on Damian.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis is, in short, fucking tired of the monotony.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I take her dinner up today?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Gretchen gives her an odd look as she ladles a generous helping of beef stew into a ceramic bowl. Over the past week and change, Karen has been the one bringing Cady her meals, as she hasn’t been receptive to eating with the whole group. Almost every night she’d go up hopeful, saying something like “today is the day,” and then return to the table after a few minutes with a sad expression and a shake of her head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Any reason?” she asks, using a paper towel to wipe off some excess that had spilled over the side of the bowl.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis shrugs and sticks her hands in the pockets of her jeans, trying not to look too eager to speak to Cady. She’s been trying to find an opportunity for days to talk to her, but today is the first day she’s been able to catch Gretchen in the process of making Cady’s plate. “I feel like… Karen’s nice and all, yeah, but I have a certain way with people.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You mean a certain way of annoying people?” Regina says as she breezes into the kitchen, freshly showered and dressed in a casual pair of denim shorts and a tank top. The August heat, coupled with her growing comfort with the others, seems to have gotten her into wearing more revealing outfits, and Janis can’t help the way her eyes trail after her as she grabs a bottle of water from the fridge.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Very funny, George,” Janis replies dryly, her mocking smile sliding off her face, replaced with an unamused frown. “But no, I mean I have some experience with loss like this, and I think she might benefit from talking to someone who understands the gravity of losing such important people.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina raises an eyebrow as she sips from her water and drags her eyes up and down her body. “Hm,” she hums simply. To Janis it seems like she has something she wants to say, maybe to probe about what she means, but she says nothing.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“If you want to try and talk to her, be my guest,” Gretchen says finally, tapping the counter next to the bowl she’d already prepared. “Don’t spill anything on my carpet.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis nods and grabs the stew and a spoon from the silverware drawer before making her way out of the kitchen and to the bedrooms upstairs. She takes extra care not to spill anything, Gretchen’s warning fresh in her mind, and eventually finds herself outside of the room Cady had claimed upon arriving. Carefully, she maneuvers a hand up to knock and waits until she hears the faint “come in” to turn the knob and enter.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The room is similar to the others in the B&amp;B, simply decorated and cozy, and Cady’s sat at the little corner desk staring a little listlessly at her laptop screen. She looks up and furrows her brow at the sight of Janis, and the brunette figures she was expecting Karen again.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t look so disappointed,” Janis teases, entering and closing the door behind her. She walks up and sets the bowl down on the desk. “Figured you’d like to see a different face, pretty as Karen is.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady’s lips twist into a strained smile and she mutters a small “thanks” before her eyes return to her screen. She probably expects her to just drop off dinner and then disappear back downstairs, but she hovers a little, and when she isn’t brushed off, she leans in a little closer to see what she’s looking at. It appears to be an open, unsent email, and glancing through a few of the lines it appears to be… a letter of resignation?</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Woah, dude,” she says, planting a hand on the desk and leaning on it as she looks down at the despondent redhead. “You’re not… you’re not thinking about quitting your job?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>She shrugs and leans back in her chair, folding her hands in her lap and fiddling with her thumb ring. “Thinking about going back in the fall makes me feel…” she trails off and swallows, and then she laughs unexpectedly as tears build in her eyes. “It makes me feel sick, honestly.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis glances away at the floor, but then she firms up and looks back at Cady. “Can’t you just take a semester off? Take some time to process everything that’s happened?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You heard the call I had with my boss,” Cady reminds, tipping her head back. She stares at the corner of the ceiling and sniffs. “Sure, my parents were just murdered in front of me, but I can’t just stop living, right?” She huffs out an exasperated breath and wipes her eyes. “At least, that’s what she thinks. The students have already signed up for my classes, can’t just give up and mope.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re allowed to take time to grieve,” Janis says softly. She moves to sit down on the end of the bed, spinning Cady’s chair so they’re facing each other. The broken look on Cady’s face hurts Janis because as little time as they’ve spent together, the other woman has taken up quite a residence in her mind. Maybe it’s the kinship she feels, the bond Cady doesn’t even know they have.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady shrugs again, glancing over her shoulder at the email.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Can I tell you something?” Janis asks. She doesn’t want to talk to Cady if she doesn’t wanna talk to her, because she knows how that feels, for people to not respect her need to be alone.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady nods.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis takes a deep breath, because this isn’t something she’s verbalized in… years. She still thinks about it -- a day never passes that she doesn’t think about it -- but she hasn’t told anyone about it since, probably, her first therapy appointment after the accident.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My brother died in a car accident,” she says quietly, taking in the way Cady immediately straightens in her chair, even leaning forward with concern in her blue eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s awful,” Cady whispers. “I’m so sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“It was January,” she begins, swallowing her emotions. After so many years she’d think it would be easier to talk about, but evidently not judging by the way her chest is tightening. “I’d just turned seventeen, and winter break was just about to end. He wanted to go to a party, and he told me not to tell our parents where he was if they asked.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady’s hand raises out of her lap, reaching out to her, before she seems to think better of it and returns it to her lap. Janis can appreciate the small, comforting gesture.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“The roads were icy and… and when he was driving there he took a turn too hard and skidded into a ditch next to the road,” Janis explains, letting out a wet laugh, shaking her head. God, and to think she even encouraged him to go out and have some fun when she knew that he wasn’t confident driving when the roads were like that. She looks down at her lap. “He didn’t even die on impact.” Her brow scrunches together and she frowns, swallowing hard. “They said he was probably alive for awhile, trapped in the car.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Oh no,” Cady murmurs.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“My parents asked me where he was,” Janis whispers. “And I didn’t tell them, because he told me not to and I didn’t wanna get him in trouble.” There’s a very pregnant pause, and then, “If I had told my parents where he’d gone, he probably would’ve been rescued. He might’ve had chronic issues, but he’d be alive.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady finally seems to get over whatever reservations she had earlier and she reaches out and places a hand on Janis’ knee, squeezing it gently and sweeping her thumb. Janis rests a hand on it, and she finds a strange amount of comfort in the gesture, despite it coming from a woman she hardly knows.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“All of this to say I know a little about what you’re going through,” Janis says, squeezing Cady’s hand. “And your boss is a total bitch for not giving you time to be a human and experience grief.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady snorts and shakes her head. “She’s always been a bitch.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis chuckles a little and shakes her head. She looks at Cady for a long moment, fully prepared to get up and finally leave her alone if she so wants, but her hand doesn’t move from her knee. There’s more life in her eyes, seemingly.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I don’t know what I’m going to do,” Cady whispers, staring at their joined hands. She sniffs and looses a heavy sigh, glancing back at the email. “My parents were all I had… and being back in California for the funeral hurt </span>
  <em>
    <span>so much.”</span>
  </em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You seemed to care about them a lot.” She pauses, pursing her lips and mulling over what to say next. “Clearly you’re very good at what you do,” Janis says. “Like, you’re a professor of computer science, for fucks sake.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady snorts and shrugs. “I suppose I’m pretty decent.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“With the world the way it is, there’s always gonna be jobs for people with your skillset, and if you need to take a break from teaching… well, I think you know yourself well enough to decide whether or not it’s the right thing to do,” Janis assures. “Not to mention any college or company would be lucky to have you, judging by what I’ve seen of you.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You haven’t seen a lot of me,” she reminds. She withdraws her hand and grabs a tissue from the desk to wipe her cheeks and her nose.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I have a really good vibe about you, Cady,” Janis says firmly, standing up from the bed and cracking her back by twisting to either side. She rests a gentle hand on Cady’s shoulder, squeezing it. “If you do end up leaving CalTech, I’m sure Gretchen will let you keep this room, at least for a little while. Don’t have to worry about work. There’s not much to do here, so there’s plenty of time to be reflexive.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Cady nods and turns around in the desk chair, her fingers poised over the keyboard. Janis watches her make a few edits to the email before her middle finger hovers nervously over the touchpad, the cursor positioned over the send button.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Your dinner’s getting cold.” Janis gives her one last pat on the shoulder before deciding to leave her alone, to give her the room to make her choice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Downstairs, the others are already eating and talking amongst one another. Karen watches her curiously as she goes into the kitchen and grabs her helping of dinner, waiting patiently for her to sit down and take a bite before asking, “So?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis swallows the spoonful of stew and sets her utensil down, lacing her fingers together and leaning her mouth against them. All three women are looking at her with interest, obviously waiting for her report on Cady’s condition.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“We talked a little,” Janis says. “I let her know she’s not alone in what she’s feeling, and she let me know some things she’s been thinking about.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Such as?” Regina prompts.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She misses her parents, obviously.” Her eyes drop at that, and she watches the steam curl up from her bowl. “Said being in California hurt a lot when we went back.” The front door opens, then, as Janis says, “I think she might resign from her job.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who’s resigning from her job?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Everyone turns to see Norbury striding through the living room and into the dining room, obviously fresh from the Warehouse. She gives them all a strange look, curious about the topic of their conversation.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Cady’s thinking about quitting teaching,” Janis informs. “I was talking to her a few minutes ago, and I think she’s gonna go through with it. Had the email ready to send and everything.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I wouldn’t wanna work for that woman on the phone, honestly,” Regina comments.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Didn’t you say your old boss was the kind of man who thought women could will their periods to stop?” Karen asks, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“That’s besides the point.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis tilts her head, ignoring the bickering blondes so she can observe Norbury, raising an eyebrow when she sees the contemplative look on her face. Her brow is drawn and the corner of her lip is caught between her teeth.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Don’t hurt yourself thinking so hard, dude,” she eventually teases. She figures she’s already on the shitlist, it can’t hurt to poke her a little when there’s not really any worse place she can be.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“She’s a professor at CalTech, right? Computer science, math, all that?” Norbury clarifies.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Who knows for how much longer,” Regina says, sipping her water.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Norbury purses her lips, and now all four women are staring at her in mixtures of curiosity and confusion. She glances over her shoulder at the staircase, and then back at the table. “We’ve been a little short staffed here, even without you both being grounded,” she says pointedly, watching as Janis and Regina both slouch a little. “There’d be </span>
  <em>
    <span>a lot</span>
  </em>
  <span> of paperwork.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“You’re thinking about giving her a job with the Warehouse,” Karen observes, garnering shocked looks from the rest of the table. She shrugs and gestures at Norbury. “It’s obvious, isn’t it?”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Of course, Duvall and The Regents have final say, but I think with her background and skills, as well as already being semi-exposed…” Norbury trails off, rapping her knuckles against the table before looking up at Karen. “Come with me. Let’s talk to her.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Janis and Regina exchange a shocked look as Karen dutifully picks her napkin out of her lap and puts it beside her bowl. The two of them and Gretchen watch as Karen and Norbury ascend the stairs to the second floor, disappearing around the corner.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So we’re still grounded for bringing her here, but now she gets to have a job?” Regina calls out.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Consider yourselves ungrounded!” Norbury replies, her footsteps coming closer as she twists around the landing so they have a clear view of her. “And to be fair, your grounding was also due to you unnecessarily endangering yourselves.”</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“So we can work again?” Janis asks.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Yep!” Norbury says, throwing them a thumbs up. “Back to work tomorrow morning, then Damian can take a much needed break.” And then she swings back up the stairs, and they all hear a door close.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina and Janis turn back to one another, grinning widely, and Gretchen just shakes her head and chuckles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“I’d finish before it gets cold. I’m just gonna put Karen’s in the microwave,” she says quietly, grabbing the bowl and disappearing into the kitchen.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>“Fist bump?” Janis asks, raising her fist to Regina with a renewed spark in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Regina rolls her eyes, but bumps their knuckles together with a grin and a light flush over her cheeks.</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. Daddy Issues</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Regina finds some moments for introspection regarding her father and her and Janis are sent to Toronto to investigate some mysterious deaths.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hello i'm here with what is not exactly what i had planned for chapter 10 but this whole thing felt better as its own chapter to lead into the artifact next chapter, so stay tuned for their adventures in Toronto!</p><p>i hope you enjoy!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Regina’s looking at her phone again, her messages app specifically. It’s pretty empty, honestly, something she would’ve thrown a fit about in her youth, but now is just quietly sad about. Her most recent texts are from her mom and Shane, both of them wishing her a happy birthday, from three days ago. She’d smiled when they came through at breakfast before locking her phone again, trying to ignore the fact that her father hadn’t made an effort to reach out unlike her mom.</p><p> </p><p>Now, she tries to imagine what he’d even say to her if he did text her, or call her. Would he ask about DC? Would he be disapproving of her reassignment to the Warehouse, something she wouldn’t even be able to explain? Would he make a comment about what happened in Afghanistan? That was the last time they properly spoke, when she was fresh out of surgery after the IED and he told her he was disappointed in her actions.</p><p> </p><p><em> “You should’ve been more careful,” </em>he said firmly. There were no well wishes, no concern, only dismay. She remembers being so drunk on pain meds and grief that she couldn’t even respond, simply hanging up on him for the first and last time. She could’ve died, but all he could focus on was the mistake.</p><p> </p><p>On brand.</p><p> </p><p>She taps her nails against the back of her phone, biting her lip as she considers that time of her life.</p><p> </p><p>Honorably discharged from the Marines and going through the slog that was recovering from an SCI and PTSD, not to mention dealing with the grief and depression that came with knowing she’d caused so much death, her days were spent in therapy, be it physical or mental, or she was just struggling to reassimilate into life in America. No friends, no contact with family, and the only person she could depend on was suffering under the weight of new disabilities.</p><p> </p><p>She was woefully alone.</p><p> </p><p>It was, by far, her rock bottom.</p><p> </p><p>She blinks a few times to refocus her eyes when she hears someone stomping down the aisle behind her. Only one person walks with such heavy footsteps around the Warehouse, and when she looks, she sees Janis dance-walking through the main aisle, headphones in, bopping to whatever music she is playing instead of actually doing inventory like they’re meant to be.</p><p> </p><p>Regina watches her with mild amusement, even if her expression is still wistful, and she raises an eyebrow as Janis does a dramatic spin and promptly fumbles with her tablet when she notices Regina standing in the aisle she was about to go down.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh, hi,” Janis greets, plucking her earbuds out with a hooked finger as she approaches a little sheepishly, probably surprised to have been caught slacking. There’s a moment where neither says anything, Regina falling back into her thoughts, until Janis says, “Alright, what’s wrong? You look like someone killed your cat.”</p><p> </p><p>“My cat?” Regina gives her a strange look. “I don’t have a cat.”</p><p> </p><p>“Dunno; you seem like a cat person.” Janis shrugs and sets her tablet on the shelf beside her, crossing her arms and leaning her weight on one foot. “So what’s up? You’re just kinda staring at me with this really weird look that screams ‘talk to me, I’m dead inside.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina puffs her cheeks out and then lets go of the air, the ever present crease between her brows growing more prominent as she switches her gaze to the shelf where Janis had set her tablet down. “Just doing some thinking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Can I ask about what?” Janis prompts.</p><p> </p><p>There’s a pregnant pause where Regina considers not telling Janis, but they’re partners, and there’s no reason to <em> not </em> tell her about why she’s sad. They’ve tread close to the line of digging deeper into one another’s pasts since starting at the Warehouse, but nothing has ever really crossed into that territory… until now.</p><p> </p><p>She figures she can give her some of the surface-level details, at least for now. Maybe, once they’re closer, she’ll say more on it, but not right now.</p><p> </p><p>“It was my birthday on the 10th and my dad didn’t text me,” she admits, immediately feeling a little stupid as soon as the words fall from her lips. How childish is it of her to be sad about the fact that her dad didn’t text her to wish her a happy birthday? Sure, she texts him on <em> his </em> birthday, but that doesn’t mean she’s given the same respect in return. “God, this is dumb. I’m sorry.”</p><p> </p><p>“It’s not dumb,” Janis says quietly, reaching out to poke Regina’s shoulder and get her attention. When she doesn’t look up, she pokes her again. “Hey, look at me.” She waits, and finally, Regina does switch her gaze to Janis’ earnest brown eyes. “It’s not dumb.”</p><p> </p><p>“Okay,” she replies. Her phone slaps uselessly against her thigh as she lets go of the tension in her arms, taking another deep breath as she stares straight ahead. “He hasn't talked to me since 2015; I don’t know why I’m so torn up about it.”</p><p> </p><p>“He’s your dad.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina shrugs.</p><p> </p><p>Another few moments of silence builds between them where Regina wonders if she’s just shared too much, but then Janis says:</p><p> </p><p>“If I’d known it was your birthday, I would’ve gotten you something! Why didn’t you tell any of us?”</p><p> </p><p>The topic change is welcome.</p><p> </p><p>Regina snorts and shakes her head, tucking her phone away and beginning to play with her hands. “It slipped my mind until the morning of with the whirlwind that the past two weeks have been, and by then it felt a little late to mention it. Not like I’ve really celebrated my birthday since I turned eighteen.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, if it means anything, happy birthday from someone who does care about you.” Janis gives her a smile and reaches out like she’s gonna ruffle Regina’s hair, but she quickly ducks away with a warning look that only makes the brunette’s lips curl up further. “Worth a try.”</p><p> </p><p>A laugh bubbles out of Regina’s throat, and she shakes her head at her partner’s silliness, amused and relieved that she was able to diffuse the tension in Regina so deftly. “Thank you,” she says softly. “It means a lot.”</p><p> </p><p>They hold eye contact, neither wanting to glance away first. Janis has a genial smile on her face, sweetness bleeding from her eyes as she looks at Regina differently than any other person has before. She feels heat crawling up the back of her neck at the sheer amount of attention being paid to her, and a smile spreads unbidden on her lips at how good it feels to be the focus of this other woman’s eyes, if even for such a short moment.</p><p> </p><p>Of course, it can’t last.</p><p> </p><p>Above them, an intercom crackles to life, and Janis takes a step back and turns to the shelf where she’d set her tablet down while Regina coughs and looks away, the flush in her neck spreading to her cheeks as Norbury’s voice fills the aisle:</p><p> </p><p>
  <em> “If you ladies aren’t busy, we have a ping. Get up to the office, ASAP.” </em>
</p><p> </p><p>“Duty calls,” Regina says a little regretfully, wanting to return to their little moment. She clears her throat and jerks her thumb in the direction of the office.</p><p> </p><p>Janis laughs and they make their way back to the office in comfortable silence, shoulders bumping and secret looks shared as they go.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>“Glad you could finally join us.”</p><p> </p><p>Janis snorts as she holds the door open for Regina to enter, eyes trailing her body as she passes before she steps into the office as well. “We didn’t think running from our position to here would be a good use of energy.”</p><p> </p><p>The office is cleaner than it has been in awhile, and most of that can probably be attributed to Cady. Ever since being offered a job as a consultant to the Warehouse, she’s been fixing up things here and there, and it seems she’s found a new purpose for herself under Norbury’s guidance. Her presence has been refreshing, and it’s certainly nice to have an extra pair of hands around the Warehouse in case others are occupied.</p><p> </p><p>Speaking of Cady, she’s holding two files and rocking on her feet where she’s stood beside Norbury’s chair. She holds them both out to the agents as they approach, offering a small smile and a nod before perching on the edge of the desk and settling in as Norbury turns in her chair and begins speaking:</p><p> </p><p>“This afternoon in Toronto, Canada two perfectly healthy teen girls were rushed to the hospital, one suffering from a stroke and the other from a heart attack.” She pauses, allowing the agents to digest the information, before continuing, “The victim of the stroke lost function of her lungs and died en route to the hospital while the one who had a heart attack is currently in recovery.”</p><p> </p><p>“Perfectly healthy people don’t just have strokes and heart attacks, Norbury,” Regina notes. “Were they fast food addicts or something?”</p><p> </p><p>“If that was the case, I would’ve been dead by college,” Janis mumbles.</p><p> </p><p>“I’d practice your sympathy before you meet with these girls’ parents, agents,” Norbury scolds. They both share a glance before looking back down at the files, thoroughly chastised as they mutter apologies. “Like you said, perfectly healthy people don’t just drop dead, so you’re both going to Toronto to check it out.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina flips the file shut and tucks it under her arm so she can clasp her hands in front of her, eyeing Norbury a little skeptically. “How do you know these girls were actually healthy and this wasn’t just caused by something else?”</p><p> </p><p>“Medical records,” Norbury says blandly. “None of the documentation we have points to anything conclusive. The Warehouse system recognized it as strange, so you’re going,” she continues as if she’s telling Regina the sky’s blue.</p><p> </p><p>“Uh-huh?” Regina’s eyes tighten around the edges.</p><p> </p><p>“Listen-” Norbury stands up and approaches Regina, rubbing her hands together as she takes a few slow steps towards the blonde- “you’ve been on several missions by now, and you haven’t had issues following those leads.”</p><p> </p><p>“Because those leads were things like bodies showing up with snapped necks and no blood, not just a heart attack and stroke. People have those every day.” Regina crosses her arms, and Janis wonders why she’s being so defensive, even if she does understand where she’s coming from.</p><p> </p><p>“The Warehouse system doesn’t do false positives, and it’s never been wrong since it was implemented. Everything in this place is as functional as it gets,” Norbury assures.</p><p> </p><p>And it’s at that moment that the lights in the office flicker, spark, and then go out.</p><p> </p><p>Janis snorts at the irony, even as she reaches to the side to get a grip on Regina’s shoulder to orient herself in the space. “As functional as it gets, huh, Norbury?”</p><p> </p><p>“Cady, can you-?”</p><p> </p><p>“Already on it.”</p><p> </p><p>Light footsteps walk around the desk, and then there’s a loud, metallic noise as Cady does… something in the office, Janis can’t quite see since the lights are out. There’s a few moments where they all stand in the darkness, silent, and then there’s a triumphant noise from Cady and the lights flicker back on with a gentle hum.</p><p> </p><p>“Care to explain that?” Regina asks.</p><p> </p><p>Norbury gives her a disgruntled look as she sits back down and rubs over her brow. “We’ve been having random power outages the past few days. Cady’s always able to fix it, but we can’t find the source.” Regina, smug, opens her mouth to probably make another teasing remark, but Norbury simply holds up one hand and points at the door to the Umbilicus with the other. “No more arguing. Your flight leaves tomorrow morning, 7AM sharp, so I’d get packing if I were you.” She turns in her chair to face the laptop, waving a dismissive hand at them. “Now, begone.”</p><p> </p><p>“Yes ma’am,” they chorus, offering a quick goodbye wave to Cady before exiting the Warehouse.</p><p> </p><p>
  <b>***</b>
</p><p> </p><p>At this point, having spent over a month with the Warehouse, neither of them are even phased by the lack of amenities in their hotel rooms anymore. So long as the water isn’t brown, their room service is paid for, and there isn’t a dead body in the mattress, the two of them have no complaints.</p><p> </p><p>Granted, in all of their previous rooms, there were at least two beds.</p><p> </p><p>“Wow, they’re really skimping on costs now,” Janis grumbles, setting her luggage at the foot of the bed and then flopping face first on the single, queen sized bed in the center of the room. She couldn’t care less about the prospect of sharing a bed with Regina at this moment, mostly because -- due to a wailing child behind them on the plane -- neither had gotten any shut-eye on the flight.</p><p> </p><p>Regina seems a little more trepidatious, perhaps simply more cognizant of the implications given her wakefulness. She finds, after a few moments of thinking, that she’s not uncomfortable with the idea of sharing a bed with her partner, but there’s an anxious fluttering in her gut despite this. Hesitant, she sits down and scoots up to sit against the headboard, phone in hand, figuring they can take a few minutes to decompress before working out dinner arrangements and the plan for tomorrow’s artifact hunting.</p><p> </p><p>Inexplicably, she ends up staring at her father’s contact, thumb hovering over the screen to refresh it each time it dims. Her brows draw together and she purses her lips, wondering how he’d react if she reached out first. Maybe he wouldn’t even respond if she did, or maybe he’d call her and tell her exactly how badly she fucked up.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve got that look on your face again,” Janis says, interrupting her internal self-loathing. She’s moved onto her side, one arm folded under her head while the other remains draped over her waist.</p><p> </p><p>“What look on my face?” Regina asks. She puts her phone face down on the bedspread and lets her hands fall limply into her lap, fiddling with her fingers.</p><p> </p><p>Janis shrugs and says, “The one you had in the Warehouse when you were telling me about your dad.”</p><p> </p><p>“Well, I’m fine.”</p><p> </p><p>“I didn’t ask if you were fine,” Janis points out quietly, finally sitting up and moving so she’s against the headboard too. She observes Regina closely, trying to see beyond the mask she’s wearing.</p><p> </p><p>Regina huffs out a laugh, her eyes off to the side to avoid Janis’ piercing gaze. She feels embarrassed that she’s still so hung up. It’s never hurt like this before, but with Janis right next to her, a warm presence who she sees day in and day out, who she <em> knows </em> cares about her, she’s realizing that her dad really doesn’t care about her, and that’s the worst part. There was never a point to compare him to before, but now…</p><p> </p><p>She swallows hard and looks down at her hands, sniffling.</p><p> </p><p>“Regina?” Janis says softly, nudging their shoulders together. She waits until her partner looks up at her, eyes a little teary, before asking, “Why doesn’t your dad talk to you anymore?”</p><p> </p><p>Regina exhales loudly, a wry smile quirking her lips before it drops into an anxious frown. “There was an… incident,” she whispers. “In 2015, when I was still- still in the Marines.”</p><p> </p><p>“What kind of incident?” Janis asks.</p><p> </p><p>“The incident itself isn’t important,” Regina rushes out all in one breath, reluctant to go into detail about what, exactly, happened. She can tell Janis about her dad, that much is okay, but the last thing she wants is for Janis’ opinion of her to drop once she learns what happened when she was in Afghanistan, the circumstances of her discharge. She sniffs again, grabbing a tissue from the nightstand to dab at her eyes. “When my dad found out what happened, he called me, and I was in the hospital, high as a kite and fresh from surgery-” her words choke out and she clears her throat, her face pinching a little as she gets a faraway look in her eyes. “He called to tell me that he was disappointed in me.”</p><p> </p><p>“That’s shitty,” Janis mumbles, holding her tongue so she doesn’t pry too much further, even if she is curious. She doesn’t know what to do to comfort Regina, whose bottom lip is beginning to visibly tremble, so she simply rests her hand face up on her thigh, an invitation. “No one should have to hear that from their father.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina looks down at the offering with glassy eyes before her hand reaches out tentatively. They both hold their breath as Regina rests her palm against Janis’, letting their fingers lace together naturally.</p><p> </p><p>Janis squeezes.</p><p> </p><p>“I hung up on him, and he hasn't spoken to me since,” Regina confesses.</p><p> </p><p>“I know the feeling,” Janis mumbles. “Not that my dad ever did much talking.”</p><p> </p><p>“Quiet man?” Regina jokes.</p><p> </p><p>Janis snorts. “You have no idea.”</p><p> </p><p>“Does it…” Regina starts before trailing off, looking a little pained. She shifts on the bed and blinks a few times, releasing a breath. “Does it hurt? That your dad doesn’t talk to you?”</p><p> </p><p>“Sometimes,” Janis admits. “But I think it’s ultimately best for both of us.”</p><p> </p><p>“Why’s that?”</p><p> </p><p>Janis takes a deep breath of her own, flicking her tongue out to wet her lips before saying, “There’s no point in trying to talk if he still resents me for what I did.” She looks straight ahead, but she can feel Regina’s eyes on the side of her face. “It’s not really productive, y’know, to continuously be reminded of your mistakes by the person who’s supposed to love you.”</p><p> </p><p>“I think we have more in common than we first thought,” Regina says softly.</p><p> </p><p>“Daddy issues gang!” Janis jokes, eliciting laughs from both of them. The solemn atmosphere from their conversation lightens, though Janis does squeeze Regina’s hand one more time to get her attention. “Do you feel better?” she asks.</p><p> </p><p>“You’ve given me a… new perspective, I guess. Thank you,” Regina replies. She looks down at their linked hands, the way they fit together, and that anxious flutter returns to her stomach. Her throat bobs uncertainly before she moves to change the subject. “Dinner?”</p><p> </p><p>“Please, I’m fucking starving. Airplane pretzels can only tide me over for so long.”</p><p> </p><p>Regina can only snort and shake her head before grabbing the room service menu and beginning to go down the list.</p><p> </p><p>Dinner is ordered and consumed in no time at all it seems, and by then, they’re both ready for bed. They easily move through their nightly routines, both of them showering off the airplane funk before brushing their teeth and shuffling back out into the bedroom. There’s a moment of silence, both of them standing in their pajamas staring at the bed, before Regina says:</p><p> </p><p>“I sleep on the left side.”</p><p> </p><p>“Somehow, I knew you were picky about what side of the bed you slept on,” Janis mumbles, shaking her head fondly as she dutifully pulls back the covers on the right side of the bed and slides in. She turns over to watch as Regina does the same, settling in on her back and looking at her expectantly. Janis raises an eyebrow at her. “What? Do you want a goodnight kiss or something?”</p><p> </p><p>Regina’s cheeks darken, and Janis can’t help but think about how cute she looks without all of her makeup. She has freckles just across the bridge of her nose, but then she’s speaking and Janis is pulled out of her thoughts.</p><p> </p><p>“You’re the one next to the lamp. You have to turn it off,” Regina replies.</p><p> </p><p>“Oh!” Janis gives her a sheepish look before twisting to turn the lamp off, the room falling into darkness. She settles back against the pillows on her side, facing away from Regina with one arm beneath the pillow.</p><p> </p><p>It’s strange for both of them, that’s for sure. Neither has shared a bed in… several years, probably. At least, not under circumstances where they weren’t inebriated or a little shameful after a desperate hookup. They both try not to breathe too loudly or move too much, not wanting to disturb the other, and, eventually, they drift off, the tension in their bodies loosening until they’ve melted into the mattress, unaware but ready to face the morning together.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>hope you enjoyed that! if you did, drop a comment and/or kudos if you haven't already to let me know! it really makes my day, and i think spreading a little love is what everyone needs these days. if you want you can come yell at me in my askbox @kingwisewolf on tumblr. i'm open for prompts or just generally talking!</p><p>stay safe everyone</p>
        </blockquote><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>questions? comments? concerns? messages make me smile, and they'll motivate me to write faster ;) and yell at me on tumblr @kingwisewolf</p></blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>